The Test...

This sounds a little corny... but I have come to view organized religion as a reality based representation of the "Force" on Star Wars! What an amazing gift it is to have the kind of power that comes from a community of faith! However, we need to be cautious and aware. Any strength that can be used for good, can also be used to the detriment of that which is good. This is perhaps best illustrated by a world history riddled with holy wars, crusades, and persecution exercised in the name of a divine entity. When practicing faith, regardless of religious shroud, we have a responsibility not to get so caught up in our own selfish ideals and objectives that we neglect God's divine purpose in life and the experience it provides. Lately I can't help but think... If we truly had all the answers, would we still be taking the test???

Love and Perspective...

My thoughts on gender variant children... As the mother of a gender variant child, I was a little disappointed in a recent television program that seemed to exploit gender variant children. These children are not "freak shows" or objects to be "sensationalized" or "pathologized". The reality is that EVERYBODY who demonstrates any variation from the book meausure of "normal" can be clinically categorized as having a pathology. Who among us doesn't have a pathology??? Who really cares??? These are children and people... with an identitiy no different than yours and mine... THEY KNOW WHO THEY ARE and WE NEED TO LISTEN TO THEM, not dismiss them because they are children... and certainly not dismiss them because they are different. The truth is... there is nothing wrong with these people. The problem comes from a surrounding LACK OF COMFORT WITH THEIR SELF-EXPRESSION, AND OBVIOUS VARIATION FROM TRADITIONALLY ACCEPTED NORMS. We need to nurture the spirit. We need to embrace identity and allow people to express themselves for WHO they are so they can grow up to be the beautiful, gifted, amazing INDIVIDUALS that God created them to be. When will we quit cramming people into boxes and realize the beauty of diversity??? When will we abandon judgement and accept all people for the unique eccentricities of their divine nature??? This is what Christ's example has taught me... He has taught me to love and accept my child... and, more importantly, to LISTEN TO and BELIEVE her.

Sometimes the trials that people experience do not have NEARLY AS MUCH TO DO WITH THEM, THAN THOSE WHO NEED TO LEARN AND GROW FROM THEM. I think everyone who is blessed to know or come in contact with a gender variant child needs to ask themselves.... WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO LEARN FROM THIS CHILD??? Only then, will God's pupose in all of this become known. Conversion of the heart doesn't come from arguing opposing viewpoints/positions... it comes from truth... from sharing testimony... and from the power of the spirit. This is true, not only of experiences in a church pew... but in all of aspects of life. I have a testimony of WHO my child is and I thank God every day for helping me to see the truth... for allowing me to SEE HER BEAUTY THROUGH HIS EYES. This is my testimony... and I'm thankful for it.

Auld Lang Syne...

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne?

It's a song that kicks off the New Year in many countries around the world. Many people immediately identify the melody, but precious few understand the lyrics. It's a song that poses a question... A question that invites reflection... Reflection that can lead to new beginnings. What is "Auld lang syne"? Taken from an old ballad, printed in the year 1711... it literally means "old long since", which is interpreted as "days (or times) gone by"...

At the beginning of each New Year, I reflect on the past - sifting experiences through a social, emotional, and spiritual "colander". It's all a matter of reflection, and the questions loom... What to carry into the new year, and what to leave behind?

I have come to realize that each and every experience is invaluable. It's not a matter of what should be preserved and what should be forgotten, but rather a choice... the choice of whether to let go of, or grow from, the "days and times gone by".

I don't believe in regret. Each and every mortal experience takes a beautiful place in the quilt of life. Some experiences are good, while some are bad, but all of them (once pieced together) become the beautiful patchwork textures, patterns, and colors that define who we are spiritually, individually... They are the tattered pieces that contribute to our unique spiritual being. As I unfurl the patchwork craft that represents my life, invariably there are flaws. There are pieces that are much too big, illustrating lessons that took far too long to learn. There are pieces that are way too small which represent extremely impulsive choices that resulted in equally unpredictable outcomes. Some of the patchwork pieces are composed of thick, heavy, dark fabrics and represent periods of frustration, loneliness, despondency, and depression. The bright colored, lightweight squares boast of childbirth, joyous events, achievements, and successes.

Perhaps most notable, are the oddly shaped patches. They don't easily fit with the others... their misshapen composition make them difficult to "quilt" and compromise the contour of the entire work. These patches represent the bitterness of rejection. I have noticed that one of these oddities is quite large, dark, heavy, tattered and worn... it's a profoundly important piece and represents an extremely important aspect of my past. At the very center of that piece is an emptiness... a hole that desperately needs mending, but seems to get larger with time. It's interesting... as I look at my quilt - that patchwork piece has an overwhelming presence... and reflects the fundamental, familiar relationships of my childhood; the ghosts of "days gone by"...

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and days or times gone by?

Recently, I have spent a great deal of time studying that patchwork piece and the relationships that it represents. The dark, heavy threads illustrate the disappointment of rejection with the realization that the huge "misfit patch" at the core of my existence symbolizes the people that should have been the most significant in my life... the childhood relationships that traditionally serve a mortally sacred purpose. Despite the disappointment, I am learning to appreciate the unique beauty of every patch, and it's significance in a much greater "whole".

Sometimes, I wish I could eliminate the hurt... forget the "old acquaintances", and the "days or times" they represent, then I am reminded of the importance of each tattered patch in a collective masterpiece... a divinely beautiful patchwork "self". I am who I am because of the "days and times gone by". With every painful fiber of each awkward patch, the greatest attributes of my existence have evolved. I have been blessed with empathy and compassion for all of God's children.

While watching the movie "It's A Wonderful Life" over the Christmas Holiday, I noticed a quote on a wall in a touching scene that read... "The only thing you can take with you is what you give away." Experiencing rejection teaches the value of acceptance... likewise, surviving criticism paves the way to understanding. Some of the greatest gifts of my life resonate from a greater capacity for love.

I have been greatly blessed by those "misfit" patchwork pieces. In a home full of children with special needs, the disappointment of the past has become a profound blessing in my life through an ability to "see" and truly understanding the unique challenges in the lives of my children. I have learned to appreciate each patch in the divine composition of a beautifully flawed masterpiece.

I love my quilt. I am thankful for every piece, and what the "patchwork" of life has taught... what it has yet to teach... and, especially, Auld Lang Syne...

Happy New Year

Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Others...

Wow... it's been a while since I've blogged. I decided to take some time "away" from the blog. I needed some respite... a "breather" of sorts and decided to deal with some of our family challenges a little more privately. Things have settled down a bit and we've regained a sense of normalcy and settled into a routine at home. It's the holiday season and I felt compelled to take a moment for reflection and introspection. As the holidays approach, and in light of such a turbulent year, I wanted to express gratitude for the many beautiful blessings in my life. I give thanks to the Lord for the tender way that he teaches eternal truths... for his enduring patience... and unconditional love. This year I've grown in ways that are profoundly difficult to convey to those who have not shared this experience. All I can say is that each step of this journey has made me a better human being. Each step has provided a unique testimony... understanding, gained through experience. Incidentally... the more I learn, the more I realize what I have - yet - to learn. I am thankful for my relationship with my Heavenly Father. I am thankful for his companionship and guidance through a very difficult time in my life... A time when I felt absolutely incapable of meeting the challenges that towered before me. "Thank you, Father, for the blessing of your eternal love."

As we approach the new year, I feel a renewed sense of hope and a sacred trust in something far greater than myself. If ever I had an awareness of my insignificance... it is now. I have come to truly understand that we are all tools in the hands of a divine "craftsman". Some of us may be "hammers", while others are "nails"... but each of us serve an eternal purpose in a divinely sacred masterpiece. I have come to realize that the most important thing I can do, is recognize my time to serve... those moments when I am in his hands. The strength is His, the purpose is His, but the responsibility is mine... to surrender all that I am (my temporal understanding), and all that I have to His divine will.

May we each enjoy the reverent spirit of the holiday season and experience the blessings of "peace on earth, good will toward others".

Through Christ’s Eyes...

Years ago, I had an experience that changed my life. It was one of those rare moments that, even in brevity, teach a profound principle that never escapes the heart and has a profound impact on the soul.

I was fourteen years old at the time; a typical teenager with an amazing ability to focus almost exclusively on my own interests, capabilities, ideas, successes, disappointments, and needs. I had it all figured out, knew all the answers, and understood my purpose in life. That is, until December of 1989 when everything changed. I was blessed with an experience that clarified my existence and taught me the sacred selfless principle that embodies the expression, “Christ-like love”.

It was November in Montana and that year, in particular, the winter was atypically harsh. Subzero temperatures and frequent blizzards plagued the season and a thick blanket of snow enveloped the valley and coated the majestic mountains that surrounded the community where I lived. The bus stop at the end of the road seemed a good distance in the cold, so I’d wait by the door and watch the snow-packed highway that rounded a mountain in the distance until the bus appeared, then I’d “make a run for It” in a feeble attempt to avoid schnoz gauze (an expression used to describe the frozen crust of snot that develops from prolonged exposure to frigid weather). I’d get to the end of the road, turtle-head into my scarf, cram my hands into the bottom of my coat pockets, and jump up and down until the bus arrived. This method was tried and tested and seemed to be the most effective technique for “warding off” the cold.

The next stop was a good six miles down the road, so I had a little time to “thaw out” before the door would open to invite another frosty gust. Typically, I’d rest my head against the corner of the seat and catnap until reaching the final destination at the school yard. I don’t know why, but on that particular day I was acutely aware of my environment and happened to notice three little silhouettes, shivering on the side of the road. The bus squealed to a stop, the door opened, and I observed as each child stepped onto the bus. One at a time, they made their way from the front of the bus, down the aisle in search of a vacant seat. There were two little girls and one young boy, scantily clad in lightweight tattered jackets without hats or mittens. I recognized one of the little girls from the Kindergarten class where I volunteered my sixth period class as a teacher’s aid. Her name was Jenny.

Jenny was very sweet and had an endearing spirit. She always smiled and regardless of the way she was treated by her peers, never had anything nasty to say in retort. I think, in part, because she was mildly mentally handicapped and may not have recognized the ugliness that laced the frequent verbal attacks. It was amazing to me how children so young could identify and target the “weakest link” in a peer group. Jenny was often the victim of harsh ridicule. She only had a few pairs of pants and a couple of shirts that she alternated through the week. Her jacket was well worn and oversized, looking as though it might actually have been her mother’s. Her hair was extremely thin and stringy with a cropped cut that lined her forehead which was malformed and unusually broad. She had some noticeable, although mild, deformities of her hands and fingers. Jenny’s physical abnormalities and mental handicap had been caused by a toxic chemical called Agent Orange, an herbicide used to kill the heavy brush that camouflaged the enemy during Vietnam. Later it was discovered that exposure to the toxin caused severe genetic defects that manifest in the generation of children that followed. Jenny, as well as her brother and sister suffered from these consequential malformations.

Thanksgiving had just passed and the following Sunday our youth group leaders at church challenged us to discover the “Christ centered” significance of Christmas by adopting a family for the Holiday. Immediately, my mind turned to Jenny. I offered the suggestion, we did a little research, and discovered that her father had been struggling to find work and that the family had fallen on hard times. We embraced the opportunity for service.

My first assignment was to assume the role of “secret agent” in an effort to discover the needs of the family and the interests of the children. Jenny was so beautifully naïve and innocently answered, without suspicion, any and all questions asked. As expected, she expressed considerable concern regarding Santa’s navigational abilities indicating awareness that, once again, he might not be able to find their house. When I asked what she wanted for Christmas, her answer was modest, “A My Little Pony… and some cereal with colors. I like cereal with colors.”

When I had finished gathering the data, we went to work raising the money. We hosted bake sales, sacrificed our allowances, & even sold some of our personal belongings. We worked tirelessly for weeks to raise money, gathering toys and clothes, grocery shopping, & wrapping the presents we had bought. As the holiday approached, we experienced a transformation of perspective as we began to truly understand Christmas. Our focus became more about giving than receiving, more about service than self gratification. Our excitement grew with each selfless sacrifice and our interest in the well-being of others became intimately important to each and every one of us. Finally, after several weeks of relentless commitment to the project, the work was done. We had coats, hats, mittens, & other clothes, gifts of all sorts that included My Little Ponies and baby dolls, trucks & tractors, and several boxes of groceries including “cereal with colors”.

We sacrificed Christmas Eve with our families, but somehow it didn’t feel like a sacrifice. There wasn’t anywhere that any of us would have rather been. We met at the church to finish wrapping some last minute items, and then loaded the gifts. We had recruited the Young Men to assist with the delivery. A group of about 14 people, including youth group leaders, piled into three different vehicles and headed out in the frigid cold toward the humble little house in the country.

As we approached the home, we turned the headlights off, pulled to the shoulder of the road, and killed the engine. We were prepared, knew our assignments well, and had a strategy for each stage of the delivery. The boxes were unloaded and one by one, we silently stacked them on and around the doorstep. Methodically working as a team, we successfully delivered Christmas without interrupting the family. At last the moment had come… everyone piled back into the vehicles and anxiously observed as the two boys left behind awaited the signal.

I rubbed a spot in the center of the glass and watched from a frozen car window as our youth group leader gave the “go ahead”. The two that remained knocked on the door, and then scrambled on the ice as they rushed to escape the scene. The cars were started and the two young boys piled in as we attempted to make our getaway. At that moment, however, something unexpected happened… our car wouldn’t budge. We alternated between Drive and Reverse in a desperate attempt to dislodge the vehicle, but to no avail. Frantically, we jumped out and situated ourselves behind the car while we synchronized our efforts in an attempt to rock the vehicle free from the ensnarement of the drift. The wheels were spinning in the snow, and the snow was melting into ice which made it nearly impossible to pull free. Suddenly, our efforts were interrupted by a rapture of squeals and giggles that seemed to permeate the night air. Everyone paused for a moment and shifted focus to the source of the sound.

That’s when it happened... It was a moment frozen in time that etched a place in each of our hearts as we stood motionless in the cold and experienced the blessing of Christ-like love, service, and sacrifice. We watched from a distance as three little children jumped up and down in the cold, barely able to control their excitement. They sifted through the presents, while mother and father stood behind them, locked in a tender embrace. Our struggle to “getaway” was evident in the silence of the night, but no effort was made to discover our identity. A grateful father merely lifted his hand in a gentle wave of thanks. I couldn’t seem to control my emotions as tears welled up in my eyes, brimmed over, and turned to slush on my cheeks.

Words cannot express the joy that we experienced that night. The moral of the story was evident as we stood there shaking in the cold. We had given of ourselves, but received the greatest gift of all… a reminder of our divine purpose. Suddenly, and for a brief moment, the world seemed perfect. We turned our efforts back to the car and it immediately pulled free. I have often wondered “why” and “how” the perfect strategy left us lodged in a snow bank that night. I have come to the conclusion that, although we had planned every step of our delivery, the Lord had planned a very special delivery of his own. At that moment, we didn't see poverty... deformity... or misfortune. We were blessed to see, as if blind before, humanity… through Christ’s eyes. In that sacred moment, we experienced the purity of His love.

Happy Holidays~

In My Daughter's Eyes...

I had a very important personal meeting the other night to discuss some of the delicate issues that have challenged our family. The spirit was very strong during the meeting and I felt inspired by an acute awareness of my Heavenly Father's love and guidance. Following the meeting, I stepped into my vehicle and turned the key. The car started and immediately a song began to play over the radio. The beautiful peace of the spirit flooded my emotions. Years of worry and concern seemed to dissipate, overcome by an assurance of my Eternal Father's influence. The duration of my drive home was spent weeping... basking in the glow of the moment as the tender lyrics whispered sacred truths to my soul. It was an emotional reflection of everything in my heart. I thank God for the precious moments of inspiration in my life, and the daily reminders of His love... His presence... and His peace.



(James Slater)

In my daughter's eyes I am a hero
I am strong and wise and I know no fear
But the truth is plain to see
She was sent to rescue me
I see who I wanna be
In my daughter's eyes

In my daughter's eyes everyone is equal
Darkness turns to light and the
world is at peace
This miracle God gave to me gives me
strength when I am weak
I find reason to believe
In my daughter's eyes

And when she wraps her hand
around my finger
Oh it puts a smile in my heart
Everything becomes a little clearer
I realize what life is all about

It's hangin' on when your heart
has had enough
It's giving more when you feel like giving up
I've seen the light
It's in my daughter's eyes

In my daughter's eyes I can see the future
A reflection of who I am and what will be
Though she'll grow and someday leave
Maybe raise a family
When I'm gone I hope you see how happy
she made me
For I'll be there
In my daughter's eyes...

Peanutbutter and Jelly Blessings...

My five year old son is a constant challenge... bull headed... stubborn... and sometimes a "little" defiant (laced in sarcasm). He consistently and frequently frustrates me. Everything seems like a debate... a constant entourage of discussion and persuasion. His little world MUST make perfect sense at ALL times. He's perpetually focused on issues of inequality and injustice. If I ask him to do something and it doesn't adequately "add up" in his five-year-old world, an exhausting challenge ensues.

Yesterday, while making sandwiches for lunch... Colton requested peanut-butter and jelly while the rest of the children were completely content with turkey. Not a problem... over the years I have learned to appreciate, and grown accustomed to, his frequent assertions of individuality and independence. I was busy making multiple sandwiches and trying to feed the "masses" (by "masses" I'm referring to my four children and the parade of playmates who frequently pass through our home during meal time). I began to cut the sandwich at an angle. I was startled by the aggravated shriek of my child, "NO!!! NOT THAT WAY!"

I stopped mid-cut. He continued in defiance..."I WANT IT CUT THE OTHER WAY!"

He wanted it cut in four equal squares... I had begun to cut it diagonally, in two equal triangles. This was the beginning of a tedious confrontation. In an effort to "choose my battles", I changed my approach to the cut... separating the sandwich into the four equal squares, as requested. Of course, one of the small squares was nearly severed into two miniature triangles because of my initial attempt at cutting the sandwich. I quickly placed it on a paper plate, then garnished it with chips and grapes... pretending not to notice the "defective" piece. I hoped that by overlooking the "flawed" square, he would accept the sandwich "as is", we could enjoy our lunch, and avoid the impending act of defiance that - over the years - I have come to expect.

I placed the sandwich in front of him. He looked at the sandwich and his eyes studied the piece that seemed to announce my irreparable "error in judgement". I continued to ignore his aggravation. He looked up at me with a bitter scowl, then pushed the plate to the center of the table as if he'd just found a hair in his food, then proclaimed... "I want another one."

Here we go...

"Colton, there's nothing wrong with that sandwich. It will taste the same, regardless of how it's cut... just eat it." I slid the plate back to him, hoping that he would surrender to my frustration and eat his lunch.

The other children were happily engaged in eating their meal. I busily went about the tasks at hand, making and serving juice. I put Cole's cup of juice down in front of him... I looked at the plate... sure enough, the "defective" piece had mysteriously vanished while the bitter scowl on his face stubbornly remained. I looked in the garbage... there it was... "the misfit".

Colton, noticing my displeasure, asserted himself with explanatory conviction... "I want a different sandwich."

Too tired for an out-and-out battle, I attempted to compromise with the stubborn little turd... "You don't have to eat the piece that's cut wrong. Eat the rest of the sandwich... When you're finished, if you're still hungry... I'll make you another one."

One by one, the other children finished their lunch and asked to be excused. Colton stubbornly remained... arms crossed... furrowed brow. I began to clean up. As I turned around, there he stood... beside the trash with the remaining pieces of the sandwich crumbled in his hands and a defiant look on his face. There we were, my will versus his... standing toe to toe... eyes locked... in what can only be described as a stand-off...


I WON.

I took the twisted sandwich from his hands, reinforced my prior position, and sent him to his room without lunch. The mangled remains of a perfectly good sandwich went into the trash. The next hour and a half was engulfed by defiant howls of bitter injustice and verbal assertions of inequality. Ahhh, yes.... the joys of parenthood.

Last night, after the children went to bed, I thought about this experience and my relationship with my child. My thoughts drifted to the relationship that I have with my own father... my Eternal Father, and I could identify some striking parallels...

Matthew 7:7-11

7. Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.

8. For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.

9. Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone?

10. Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?

11. If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?

Colton asked for bread... he was given bread, but the bread provided didn't meet his expectations. Because of those expectations... the bread became a "stone"... a blessing, discarded and not received.

I couldn't help but reflect on my own life and the relationship that I have with my Heavenly Father. I couldn't help but wonder how many times I have refused to accept the "bread" that I have been given? I wonder how many times I have failed to acknowledge the limitations on my mortal understanding, thereby demonstrating a stubborn lack of faith in the will of my Father? The Savior repeatedly taught the value of faith...

Matthew 17:20

20. Verily I say unto you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.

I have come to realize that formulating expectations leads to lost opportunities and a failure to embrace many of the Lord's "good gifts". While perfect faith has the potential to move mountains, the lack thereof can turn "bread into stones", and "fish into serpents"... blessings disposed.

Through adversity, I am learning to resist less, expect less, and give more. I am learning to love completely, live authentically, and BELIEVE faithfully. I am learning to rejoice in adversity... and give thanks for the experiences in my life that have clarified my understanding of God, my relationship to others, and my purpose in this world. I am awake... I am blessed... I am forever His.

James 1:2-4

2. My brethren, count it all joy when ye encounter trials;

3. Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.

4. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.

I am learning to trust God's will and graciously accept the "good gifts" in my life. I am learning to "want nothing", to let go of my expectations... expectations that frequently result in discarded...

"peanutbutter and jelly blessings"

Radical Acceptance

Radical Acceptance

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Adventures in Radical Acceptance

Adventures in Radical Acceptance (Round 2)

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"Some people just like the way I am..."

"Some people are the same...

Some people are different...

Some people are short...

Some people are tall...

Look, I'm not even quite the same as all the others... but...

SOME PEOPLE JUST LIKE THE WAY I AM."

I THANK GOD EVERY DAY FOR THOSE PEOPLE...

Thoughts on compassion...

I recently received an e-mail from someone who had visited us here. I would like to extend my gratitude to this woman for taking the time to contact me directly, for her prayers, and for her concern. There may be others who share this perspective, so I felt compelled to take a moment to respond...

"I don't know what made me decide to read your blog the other day, but it literally made me sick. I have been thinking for days what I wanted to say to you, and realized there was so much I need to say, knowing you probably don't care. So I have been writing my thoughts, and praying for days.

First off, the pastor that wrote the mass email was not trying to rally his congregation in opposition of Cameron's gender. We, the congregation are already opposed, because of what the bible teaches us. Anyone who has read or studied the bible knows this. Even people that don't, know this is wrong.

I want you to know as well, most people are not against your child. We are upset with you. What you are doing to your child is wrong. To me it is child abuse. It might not be considered as child abuse by DHR, but I hope and pray that one day it will. Laws can always be made or changed. Cameron is not at an age he can make this decision on his own. He would have had to have been taught this by you, over a long period of time. I want you to know that we pray for Cameron everyday. I pray God Will heal him. My God is a healer! If you really read and study your bible, there is no doubt in my mind this would not be going on with Cameron. He would be a happy boy! God doesn't make mistakes. God made Cameron a boy, the devil tryed to make him a girl. You let the devil win. I feel so bad for Cameron.

It makes me sick how you use the bible in your blog. You know the devil will trick you. He knows the bible too. You twist Gods word to make it fit your own beliefs and your story's. Why do you write a public blog? Why do you use God in it? You do know that you will be held accountable one day for all the life's you confuse and turn away from God. It so hurts my spirit, all of this.

I will continue to pray for Cameron. I will continue to pray that God will open your eyes and ears, and you will see what he is really trying to tell you. I have told my child, who is in Cameron's grade, that Cameron is a boy. and to pray for him daily. I have told him to be nice, and not say anything bad, but I have told him that it is wrong in Gods eyes and that is why we need to pray for him daily.

The whole world wants Christians to be tolerant to what is convenient to them and what they believe, and when we stand up for what we believe, we are judgmental and full of hate. This world is so messed up and confused all because of the devil. He wants to destroy all of us. I will do everything in my power to protect my child from the devil. That is why I don't understand what you are doing. My Lord will return one day! If you ever need great guidance our church is always open for you!

I will continue to pray for you and Cameron!"


Sometimes it's difficult for me to convey what is in my head and heart. It's unfortunate that our personal journey has caused so much distress. It would be easy to react in anger to some of the assertions that have been made, but I have grown through this experience in ways that I never thought possible. This growth has become a tremendous blessing in my life... I am thankful for the opportunities for continued growth that are presented with each new day. The most precious spiritual "scar" that I have been given is a greater aptitude for understanding, compassion, and humility for all of God's children.

There was a time in my life when I - too - stood where this woman stands today... There was a time in my life when I thought I had all of the answers. There was a time when I felt convinced that I knew God... knew his plan... knew his views and opinions. At that time in my life, if I were standing outside of where I stand today, I might have pointed the same finger of scorn at another for making the choices that we have felt impressed to make. At that time in my life, these decisions would not have fit into my understanding, or met my expectations, for what I understood to be right... and the testimony that I had of "truth".

The one thing that I have gained a testimony of through this experience is simple, but profound... I have been humbled by the realization that there are many things that I don't, truly, understand. I can no longer take the experiences in my life, or the lives of others, for granted. I have come to understand that I don't have all of the answers. I have learned to pray daily - with diligence and faith - for the strength to accept these challenges in my life, and the patience to move forward with grace and dignity. This has been an uphill battle... one that I know some people will not relate to, or understand - one that most will be fortunate to never experience. It has, and may continue to invite opposition. There is no "alternate route"... the only way to survive adversity when life throws "a curve ball" is through absolute faith. I have become acquainted with my Father through adversity. I thank Him each day for His love in my life.

I cannot judge those who express concern over our direction, some of whom exist within the confines of my own family. Through this experience I have learned the importance of acceptance, compassion, and understanding in the lives of all people without regard to "difference". It would be hypocrisy to pray to receive these blessings if I am unwilling to exercise these principles in my own life.

I have often wondered if God gets tired of the contention? I wonder if he ever grows weary of people arguing over His word... who's right, who's wrong, and who has the answers? I wonder what He feels when He looks at the world and sees anger, hate, and judgement... perpetrated in His name? I wonder... then I think about my responsibility in this experience.

There is no question that this is a profound trial for our family. Words cannot express what we have been through. We acknowledge the spiritual responsibility in the decisions that we have made. There is, however, a fundamental truth that many fail to acknowledge. I believe that there is another trial that has been overlooked... it's the trial introduced to those on the outside of this experience.

Christ taught through parables, through love, through understanding and compassion. He exemplified these principles throughout His life. I believe that He expects us to emulate His example, both in word and deed. He taught love and compassion for others. He taught acceptance and understanding. Most importantly... He taught us that it is not our place to judge or condemn one another. I believe that the day will come when each of us are called to stand before our Eternal Father and account for the "substance" of our life. God knows each of us better than we know ourselves... He knows our pain, the intentions of our heart, and He is the one who will determine the "rights" and "wrongs" of our mortal experience. Cammie's gender variance is our trial... how people respond to it, is theirs.

I do have a testimony of my Heavenly Father. I have a testimony of my child. I have turned to the Lord for guidance throughout my life, in adversity and in peace... I continue to turn to Him today. I am thankful for the many blessings in my life. I know that God loves his children... all of them. He has blessed me with His companionship. He is always there... His love is eternal and unconditional.

I am a good enough mother to recognize that I have many faults and shortcomings. I'm sure my imperfection will manifest itself in the future through the relationships that I work to maintain and cultivate with my precious children each day. I love them with every fiber of my being. Although they may not be clearly understood by some, the actions that I take are inspired by that love.

I don't expect others to understand the complexity of these trials in our life. I do, however, pray daily that those on the outside of this challenge will be able to identify the extreme difficulty of this experience. I pray that, as brothers and sisters in Christ, we will each identify the opportunities and exercise the strength to step outside of ourselves, follow His example, and respond to one another with compassion...


Luke 10:25-29

And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?

He said unto him, What is written in the law? How readest thou?

And he answering said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.

And he said unto him, Thou has answered right: this do, and thou shalt live.

But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbour?

Jesus replied with a story:

“A Jewish man was traveling on a trip from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he was attacked by bandits. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him up, and left him half dead beside the road. By chance a priest came along. But when he saw the man lying there, he crossed to the other side of the road and passed him by. A Temple assistant walked over and looked at him lying there, but he also passed by on the other side. Then a despised Samaritan came along, and when he saw the man, he felt compassion for him. Going over to him, the Samaritan soothed his wounds with olive oil and wine and bandaged them. Then he put the man on his own donkey and took him to an inn, where he took care of him. The next day he handed the innkeeper two silver coins, telling him, ‘Take care of this man. If his bill runs higher than this, I’ll pay you the next time I’m here."

Luke 10:36 - 37

Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?

And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.

Explorer | Sex, Lies, and Gender | National Geographic Channel

"Saturday, September 19th at 6 PM... set your Tivo! Well done, informative piece by National Geographic on gender and gender variance. Provides a "snapshot" of life on the inside of this emotionally and socially challenging medical condition - very well done..."

Explorer opens your eyes to riveting, untold adventures with host Lisa Ling.

View >>

Power of Prayer...

I spent the whole weekend emotionally in knots over Cammie's apparent bad day. I worried and stressed, trying my best to be optimistic. My emotions were compounded by a series of recent events.

I've never felt more vulnerable. It's impossible to keep something as apparent as a physical transition private, so the most intimate details of our family's life are on display. Our personal experience is being discussed by people who have never met us. I have prayed for compassion and understanding. Friday... I felt bogged down by unanswered prayers.

I have spent the majority of my morning pondering the complexities of prayer and my responsibility in the process. I have come to realize that prayer is, quite literally, a "process". I had an experience with my oldest child a couple of years ago that illustrates this concept...

I had come home from work and was tired from the events of the day. I had some things to finish up so I made my way to the office and diligently went about the process of completing the tasks at hand. An hour or two had passed when Caleb, my oldest child, burst through the door. He was clearly upset. The filth on his angry flushed face was muddied in streaks on his cheeks, a clear indicator that he had been crying. Like most moms do in a situation like this, I utilized my maternal investigation skills to work on the case…

"What Happened?”

He did his best to explain the incident through hysterical broken sentences as he attempted to catch his breath…

“Kaden and I aren’t friends any more!”

“Why not?”

“We got in a fight!”

“About what?”

“He took my gun and threw it over the fence!”

“Is that why you’re crying?”

“No... he pushed me down!”

“Why did he do that?”

“I don’t know!”

“You don’t know?”

“I wouldn’t let him play with it!”

“So, let me get this straight… he threw your gun over the fence, then he pushed you down?”

“Yes!”

“Did you do anything to him?”

“Well, I hit him… but that was because he threw my gun over the fence! Now we’re not friends anymore!”

Caleb had reached the age of camouflage and ammo that seems to possess the soul of every ten year old boy. His pseudo GI garb was practically sacred. I tried to be the voice of reason, “You know, Caleb, you and Kaden have been good friends for a long time. You’ll work it out.”

Dissatisfied with the lack of alarm in my voice, he turned around and stormed toward the door. On his way out he quipped, “And I prayed I’d have a good day!” There it was… the infamous “It’s God’s fault” line. I decided to embrace the moment to teach a valuable principle, “Hold up! Get back in here for a minute.”

He reluctantly wandered back in the room. I began to explain, “Caleb, prayer is a beautiful thing but if you’re going to tap into its power then you need to understand how it works. It’s a lot like a contractual agreement. The Lord has promised that he will always answer your prayers but there are a couple of conditions. First, we agree to believe in his will for our lives. This means that we agree to accept the answers regardless of whether or not they meet our expectations. The other part, and the part that is the MOST important, is the fact that answers to prayer come in large part because of the decisions WE make. You might have prayed that you would have a good day, but before you blame the Lord for the outcome, you need to ask yourself if you’ve made the choices that will ensure that blessing.”

Caleb stood there, listening intently to every word. It was evident that he was giving the situation considerable thought. I asked, “Did you do your part?” He thought for a moment but didn’t say a word. I continued, “Is there anything that you could have done differently that would have ensured an answer to your prayer?”

He contemplated for a moment then said, “I could have let Kaden play with my gun.” I had primed the thought process and made the determination to let him figure it out. After a minute or two of silence, when I could see he was feeling somewhat disappointed in himself, I said, “You know what?”

“What?”

“The beautiful thing is that it’s never too late to have a good day… but that all depends on you.” He looked at me for a moment, and then an excited smile lightened his expression. He threw his arms around my neck, “Thanks mom… I’ll be right back!”

He darted out of the room. A little while later he returned with a satisfied grin on his face. He said, “I took care of it mom. I wrote Kaden a note to say I’m sorry and I gave him my gun.”

It was perfect… one of those rare heartwarming moments when you feel like a successful parent. I could almost hear the "Hallmark" music in the background...

“I’m so proud of you Caleb… what did he say?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t he say anything?”

“No, because I put it down in front of his door, then I knocked, and ran.”

I tried to conceal my laughter. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but at least the principle was understood. I asked, “How do you feel?”

“Good.”

“How was your day?”

“Good!”

“Do you see how prayer works?”



Like my son, there have been many times in my life when I have blamed the Lord for a disappointing outcome, never realizing my responsibility in the process. Over the weekend, I e-mailed the mother of Cammie's little friend and addressed my concerns. This morning, I received the following response...

"What??? That is so not what was said and not what is in my heart or (my child's). (The teacher) and I had to talk strategy this past week about getting (my child) to focus in class. She’s a social butterfly and is enjoying talking with Cammie more than paying attention in math, and it’s reflecting in her math grade. We decided it would be best to move her to keep her from talking, but this has nothing to do with Cammie. You have to know that both my husband and I are very open minded and open hearted to people, and passing judgement on you or your family is not in our hearts or minds to do. We welcome you and Cammie with open arms and hope that you will find that we will always do what is in our power to protect Cammie’s integrity as well as yours.

I hope this clears up any misunderstanding. I truly apologize for any distress this may have caused Cammie or your family. It truly is the farthest from my heart to do. I hope you will return my call and we can have an opportunity to introduce ourselves."

I've had to ask myself, "who was judging whom?" Because of the challenges that we have faced, and the negativity that we have encountered from a few people; we jumped to some Hasty conclusions. I have come to realize that we have to do more than just pray for understanding... we have to give others the opportunity to understand. We have a responsibility to do our part.

1 Thessalonians 5:17-18
Pray without ceasing. In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God.

It's always easy to give thanks in retrospect... after blessings are realized. I am thankful for what I learned through our experience this weekend. I have been humbled by my own lack of faith. I have come to realize that communicating with the Lord is the easiest and most frequently practiced part of prayer, but the answers we seek come - in large part - from the actions we take. One of these days... I'll get it right. Until then, I'll keep trying...

Proverbs 3:5-6
Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

The Parable of the Roller Skates...

I arrived home from work a few nights ago and went about my evening routine, asking the children about their day. Cammie said that her day had gone well. She was lacking her typical enthusiasm, but I didn't think much of it at first. Before long, I noticed that she had gone to her room. I walked down the hall to check on her. I could see her in bed, covers pulled up to her neck, with the bedroom light off. It was only six in the evening - I knew something was wrong, the scenario was familiar... I knew she had "dropped the box". I made my way into her bedroom, told her to scoot over, climbed under the covers, and snuggled up beside her...

"What's wrong?"

That was all it took. The tears began to stream down her face, followed by sobs. She did her best to escape into the comforter, burrowing deep into the bedding as if she were trying to disappear... disolve into anything... the air, the room, the darkness. She spoke in tearful, muffled tones through the coccoon of blankets that enshrouded her, "I feel like a germ." The words cut straight to my heart. I felt my spirits sink as I "collapsed on the box" beside her... "What happened?"

Doing her best to settle down, through broken sobs she tried to explain, "My best friend told me that she can't sit by me anymore at school. Her mom called the teacher and had her moved to another table because..." Her voice trailed off, once again enveloped by sadness. She didn't need to finish the sentence... I knew.

I can't find the words to express what's in my heart. I can't even begin to convey the pain that I feel when she faces these bitter challenges. Why can't people just see her? Why can't they just see? Why?

The other night I read the following scripture...

1 Thessalonians 5:17-18
Pray without ceasing. In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God.

What!?!

Seriously???

Give thanks in ALL things? He must've been kidding, right? Maybe he simply wasn't talking to me. There are days when I sit and ponder the expectations. There are days when I sit and wonder... "How in the hell am I supposed to give thanks in this?" Why me? Why my child? Why???

years ago, I had an experience that I affectionately refer to as “the parable of the roller skates”. When I was six years old, I got my first pair of roller skates for Christmas. My family was living in Utah at the time and there was about three feet of snow on the ground so I resigned myself to “trying them out” inside. They were fairly rudimentary in comparison to the high tech roller blades that kids dash around on today; nothing more than a royal blue pair of Converse sneakers bolted to a metal base with bright red rubber wheels. I can remember lacing them up, and enthusiastically scrambling around the linoleum floor in the kitchen as I struggled to “get the hang of it”. Weeks passed, the snow melted to welcome spring, and the kitchen floor became increasingly small as my ambition for bigger and better territory advanced with my skill level. It was decided, I had graduated to the street out front with the conviction to explore my capabilities on the open road.

The day had come; I woke that morning to the high pitched shrill of the wind as it whistled through the cracks of the windowsill. Mom and dad were getting ready for work and I could hear my father on his way out the door, giving Shaun and Corey specific instructions not to go outside. From the sound of his voice, I could tell he meant business. He reported wind gusts of up to one hundred miles per hour and said that severe weather warnings had been issued. Disappointed at first, I tossed my skates to the side and resigned myself to another day of kitchen confinement. I peered out the window, and a bush caught my eye as it effortlessly bounded down the street (roots in tact).

Suddenly, a brilliant idea came to mind. What was I thinking? This was the perfect day to skate. All the components were present for an ideal skating experience; wind, open road, and wheels! I could just lace up, kick back, and (much like the bush before me) effortlessly make my way down the street.

Bound and determined by this “once in a lifetime” opportunity, I snatched up my skates and made my way to the living room. I was diligently threading the loops when I noticed another set of feet toe to toe with mine. My eyes reluctantly climbed their way to the look of disapproval on my mother’s face. After questioning my sanity, she informed me in no uncertain terms that I would not be allowed to skate outside and attempted to explain the potential repercussions. Dad had already gone and when mom had finished her “lecture”, she left for work. Shortly thereafter, the phone rang and Shaun answered it. Apparently the neighbor’s shed had blown over and was making its way down the street. A friend had called to share the exciting news and like most obedient boys do, they set out to estimate the damages.

Well, I’m no fool... when the wind of opportunity blows, I’m going skating, which is exactly what I did. I quickly laced up, made my way to the front door, turned the handle, and gave it a little push. The wind caught the door and it flew open, nearly coming off the hinges as it slammed against the frame of the house. I struggled to force it closed (which was no easy task on roller skates) and somehow wound up in a disheveled little pile of pigtails on the ground in front of the house. It was apparent that I would not be able to skate to the middle of the road. Oh no, the wind was much too powerful for that... I was going to have to crawl my way there. I struggled against the wind on my hands and knees, dragging my heavy skate-laden feet behind me. Finally, I had reached the center of the street, and with the runway before me, I fought to my feet.

With arms outstretched and legs spread, I created as much body surface area as possible for the wind to “work with”. In the beginning everything went perfectly according to plan. I felt the force of the wind against my back and began to roll without any effort on my part. A satisfactory little smile attacked my face and I giggled as I picked up speed. “I am brilliant”, I thought. Faster and faster, I rolled, until my smile dissipated with horror and panic when I realized that I was still gaining momentum and moving much too fast to attempt a “crash landing”. I was flying by houses, left and right, and could hardly make out the faces of my neighbors as they clung to their windows in wide-eyed disbelief.

What was I going to do? I knew that if I didn’t “take the fall”, I’d continue to pick up speed and eventually crash anyway. I quickly made the determination that if you’re going to be stupid; you’ve got to be tough so with some assistance from a pesky pebble or two, I dove into the pavement. I skidded a few feet on my knees, then my stomach, and the velocity of the landing seemed to carry my feet up over my head in a terrific Olympic-style somersault. Evil Kinevil had nothing on this kid! The wind continued to blow and with it, I continued to roll down the street. I struggled to turn around and with my face to the wind, once again, fought to my feet and attempted to skate back to the house. The blinding force of the storm made it difficult to see but I managed to force my eyes open long enough to notice something quite peculiar. The houses that lined the street were passing the wrong way in front of me... NOT good... Despite my valiant effort, I was rolling backward and gaining speed. Suddenly, my butt made explosive contact with the pavement in a tumble that would have won the gold in the Olympics for idiots.

What was I going to do now? I kicked off my skates and, clawing at the ground ahead of me, attempted to crawl home. The storm was much too powerful and I felt like a rag-doll in a clothes dryer as I repeatedly tumbled backward in the wind. I had never been so homesick in such a short period of time. I could see the house, it was so close but it felt absolutely unattainable. I was in pain. My heart sank. I sobbed as I struggled to fight my way home. I was alone, hurting, and the storm raging against me was merciless. My knees were shredded. I was about to abandon all hope when an elderly neighbor lady in a house close by invited me in to wait out the storm and called my mother, who rushed home to nurse my wounds.

As I look at my knees today, multiple scars remind me of a time in my life when a valuable lesson was learned. I can’t help but draw an analogy between that physical experience and the spiritual experiences in my life. There are times when all of us encounter overwhelming storms as we struggle to move through mortality. It isn’t long before we collapse and discover that our individual capabilities aren’t enough to take us home. There are times when the desire to find refuge in the love of our Father seems absolutely unattainable as the influence of adversity mercilessly rages against us. It is at these times of great turmoil and distress that we become acquanted with God. These are the moments that demand faith. These are the experiences that humble us before Him. During our weakest moments... he lends his strength. He calms the storm, heals our pain, and "carries us home".

Sometimes it's difficult to have faith... to "give thanks in all things". I have often wondered if it will ever get easier? I have come to realize that it probably will not... but by faith, we can be strengthened through God's grace. Each one of us has been blessed with a spiritual scar or two. I pray that Cammie will learn to love her "scars". I pray that each “scar” will refine her relationship with Christ and cultivate her spirit for His eternal purpose. I pray that she will learn to love the storm... and "In everything give thanks".

I pray when the storms of life rage against her and the situation seems hopeless, she will know that the Lord is there to kneel beside her, wipe the tears from her eyes, and bandage her wounds...

“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, either sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain for the former things are passed away” (Revelation 21:4).

“He healeth the broken in heart and bindeth up their wounds”
(Psalms 147:3).

I pray that Cammie will be able to face these challenges in her life with gratitude... that she may grow in a way that she can wear her scars with honor.

Realities and expectations...

My father drove an old beat-up truck that he affectionately referred to as Ol’ Red Eye. I never quite understood his attachment to, what appeared to be nothing more than a rickety heap of nuts and bolts; faded red with chipped paint, cracked glass, and an old torn up seat. However, some of the best childhood memories I have are of the tender moments I spent anxiously waiting by the window for that old battered truck to announce dad’s arrival as it bounced its way down the weathered driveway.

I can recall the countless hours dad spent over the years, meticulously washing that old truck. I scarcely saw the point, considering it never looked any better when he had finished than when he began. In fact, the dirt helped cover up some of the “ugly”. Dad, however, with all of his wisdom saw something I did not...

Every year it was that old truck that escorted our family into the Rocky Mountains of Montana to find a Christmas tree and, ironically, it was Christmas when dad finally revealed the mystery behind his adoration for the old truck. He shared the story of the night Ol’ Red Eye went “Truckin’ With Santa”. As I recall, the story went something like this…

Once upon a time, many years ago…

Old Red Eye sat for sale on a used car lot. His paint, once a brilliant red, had been bleached and faded in the sun. His smooth sleek frame had been chipped and dented from years of hard work and his windshield, once crystal clear, was now enveloped by random cracks.

Day in and day out, Red Eye sat on the lot with an advertisement scribbled across his windshield that read, $1,000. The old truck watched through cracked headlights as newer, more modern cars and trucks were bought and sold from the lot. Months past, winter turned into spring and the lot owner, sick of seeing the old truck, erased a zero from the price on the glass… $100.

Summer welcomed quite a crowd of customers but none of them were interested in Red Eye. In fact, few of them even noticed the little truck. The days rolled by, summer turned into fall, and Red Eye remained. Anxious to make a sale, the lot owner erased another zero from the advertised price on the windshield. Surely, someone would buy the old truck for a mere $10… but nobody did.

The leaves fell to the ground, the days grew colder, and the arrival of winter was welcomed by snowfall. Red Eye began to feel very bad. There he sat, unnoticed and unwanted for a scrappy $10 while other, nicer looking cars and trucks found new homes for Christmas. Disgusted, the lot owner wiped the $10 price from the glass and wrote in bold letters…

IF YOU WANT THIS TRUCK…TAKE IT!!!

Embarrassed and humiliated, Red Eye remained on the lot for free while other cars and trucks sold for thousands of dollars. He reminisced about a time in his life when he, too, was valued by others. Heartbroken and disappointed, Red Eye longed for those days. Time passed and before long he was moved to a new spot near the back of the lot next to an old dumpster. Things seemed hopeless to Red Eye until one day in December…

A group of carolers strolled by on the street and the little truck grew excited. He realized it was Christmas Eve! He couldn’t help but remember all the times he had brought home Christmas trees and hauled carolers around town, spreading the Christmas spirit in celebration of the season. Red Eye gazed at the warm glow of the Christmas lights across the street and sweet memories of past holidays filled his cab as he drifted off to sleep.

Suddenly, there was a screech and a clatter! Red Eye, startled awake by the commotion, lit his headlights to the most unbelievable sight! There, heaped in the dumpster, were twelve reindeer and buried in the side was a severely damaged sleigh. Several wrapped presents, balls, dolls, and other toys were scattered about in the snow.

It couldn’t be! Red Eye attempted to focus through the frost on his headlights. It was! Santa had missed the roof of a nearby house and crashed, right into the dumpster at his side! The little truck watched in amazement as four elves and Santa Claus, himself, climbed from the wreckage. Red Eye observed Santa and his crew as they stared in awe, shocked by the demolished remains of the sleigh.

“Well, thank goodness for airbags!” said one of the elves.

“Seatbelts too!” said another.

“At least it’s already in the trash!” said a third in jest… but nobody laughed.

Santa stood nearby, stroking his beard in thought. It was apparent that the sleigh would not be operational. Realizing the severity of the situation, everyone stood somberly, searching for a solution. Suddenly, one of the elves noticed Red Eye and read aloud the words carelessly scribbled across his windshield, “IF YOU WANT THIS TRUCK… TAKE IT!!!”

All the attention shifted to Red Eye and the solution seemed obvious. “We want him! Right Santa?” queried one of the elves.

“Indeed we do!” replied Santa.

Red Eye straightened himself up the best he could and shook the snow from his cab. The elves hurried about, gathering the scattered presents, and the little truck smiled with pride as they were loaded in his bed. The elves hooked up the reindeer and, at last, they were ready for take-off. Finally, Santa and his crew piled into the cab and away they went!

The little truck, once again, experienced the joy of the holidays as he worked through the night, making deliveries to boys and girls around the world. Tears of joy drained from his headlights and turned to icicles in the cold. At last, Red Eye was happy.

So, legend has it… he saved Christmas for thousands of children and Santa saved Red Eye by giving him to dad, a man with a passion for old trucks. And together… they lived happily ever after.

As I reflect on my childhood and the story my father told about that old truck, the “moral” is evident. I thank God for blessing my life with a father who thought to utilize a unique opportunity to teach such a profound Christ-like principle. All parents teach their children how to walk, talk, and tie their shoes. Words cannot express how grateful I am that I was blessed with a father who taught me how to see... Red Eye was a Dodge classic. When dad looked at the old battered truck, he saw the possibilities.

Looking back now, I realize that there have been many times throughout my life when my father viewed me, much as he did Ol’ Red Eye. He valued me, not for what I was at the moment, but for what he knew I had the potential to become. He never focused on my “chips, cracks, or dents”. He willingly overlooked all of the faults, shortcomings, mistakes, and weaknesses that seemed so evident, and encouraged me to cultivate the passion, strength, God-given talents and unique abilities within. He taught me to embrace my divine nature.

I have often wondered how I could fail to "see" Cammie for ten years. Why - when I looked at her - did I only see the cracks in the glass, random dents, faded and chipped paint? Why did I focus on her "flaws" for so long? For ten years, what I saw was based exclusively on what I expected to see... There was something terribly wrong with her. She wasn't like the rest of my boys. She was weird, she didn't behave according to my expectations, she wasn't a "normal" boy... she wasn't a boy at all. How could I have failed to see it? How could I have possibly missed the "moonwalking bear"? How could I have failed to see something that was so obvious from the very beginning?

I am finally starting to understand the answer that I received as I humbled myself in prayer during the "awakening" of our journey. The answer was simple but profound; the impression was clear... "Love this child, even as I have loved you."

The Lord recognizes the potential in each of us. Since we all have imperfections... and each of us will require perfect redemption, he has agreed to assist in our "restoration"... he has promised to make us whole through his unconditional love, grace, and the gift of the atonement. As we come to know and accept Him as our redeemer, our complete restoration will begin to take place.

Psalm 18: 1 – 3

1. I will love thee, O Lord, my strength.
2. The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.
3. I will call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised: so shall I be saved from mine enemies.

I have come to realize, what we see is often limited by what we are looking for. This is exemplified in my personal life by failing to recognize the beauty of Ol' Red Eye, and demonstrated through an inability to notice the moonwalking bear...

Sometimes our expectations can distract us from the truth. Cammie has always been there... the same child that she is today. However, one fundamental thing HAS changed, I am finally aware that she exists. I have finally learned to appreciate her for WHO she is... and this has made all the difference. "Love this child, even as I have loved you". Quite simply...

"Look with your eyes... SEE with your HEART."

A little older, and a little more beautiful... Dad and Red Eye, August 2009

Be Not Afraid...

I am sitting here tonight with a burdened heart and the delicate quandary of how to face my fears. How do I change a world that doesn't understand an issue as complex as those presented by Cammie's circumstance? How do I guide others to the knowledge that evaded, even me, for ten years? Sometimes the "yoke" feels heavy and I wonder where I will find the strength to take another step.... then I realize that the load is only heavy when I insist on carrying it alone.

Matthew 11:28 "Come unto me, all ye that labour, and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest".

Why is it difficult to share the "load"? Why is it... when faced with a crisis, my faith suddenly becomes evasive?

Recently, while engaged in a discussion session with other parents of transgendered youth... a distraught mother shared an experience that deeply troubled my heart. She had received anonymous threats from an individual/individuals in her community who vowed to harm her child. Her devastation was palpable and since reading the post, my anguish has paralleled her grief... Suddenly, fear "barged through the front door" and faith quietly "slipped out the back".

I believe in the good of humanity. My dad always says that it's important to function under the auspice that people are honest, decent, and reasonable - until they prove otherwise... Sometimes, however, considering the "otherwise" is unbearable. I felt horrified as I read her words, her devastation, and her pain. Why would anybody want to hurt an innocent child?

Fear is one of the most powerful forces affecting humanity.... both a survival mechanism and an instrument of evil. It divides and unites, mobilises and paralyses. Fear can manifest as a rational response to danger, or stir hate in the presence of the unknown. In this unfortunate woman's circumstance, she was victimized by a perverse fear of the "unknown".

How do I handle my own fears? Do I mobilize or paralize? Should I press on or give in to adversity? Should I hide in fear, allowing the "unknown" to divide... or provide answers with the intent to unify? Should I tuck Cameron away and shield her from ignorance and hate, or open the "doors" of understanding to those who have sincere questions? These are the issues that every parent of a gender variant child must face.

There are many people who have no knowledge about the issues that challenge my child. Many of them have children and can relate to the unconditional love that a parent feels for their child and the heartache associated with helplessness. Many of these people have legitimate concerns. If I do not provide the answers... who will? Recently, I received the following blog post:

Lyn in AL has left a new comment on your post "In the Eyes of the Beholder...":

I am sympathetic to all that Cameron will have to endure. I am however concerned about the deception of Cameron's classmates. Do they believe he is biologically a girl? What happens when one of the boys decides he wants to have Cameron as his girlfriend. I understand that your child needs to be protected but so do the others in the school. It could scar a child who liked Cammie thinking he was a girl only to find out that Cameron is a boy. That to me is unfair to the other children.

The antithesis of "fear of the unknown" is knowledge... I appreciate Lyn for taking the time to address her concerns. We have not been stealth about this issue. The reason that Lyn is aware of this blog, and others who have visited us here, is because we are not afraid to discuss Cammie's condition. We have not approached this issue with the intent to deceive. I would encourage anyone with similar questions or concerns to read the blog posts here, to visit the face page of this blog, and to e-mail me. I am happy to directly discuss any issues or concerns that families and parents might have. This blog, however, is not a place for heated discussions or attacks on anybodies views or character. I appreciate Lyn for taking the time to come here, to voice her concerns, and give me the opportunity to address them.

Cammie went to the same school last year dressed as a boy. Many children have had questions. These questions have provided a valuable opportunity for education. The school faculty and counsellors are well educated, with a clear understanding of these issues. They are available to provide education to the students as needs arise.

There is no shame in a medical condition and we are not ashamed to discuss Cammie's condition. Growing up, I never saw another child's penis or vagina... neither did I have any interest in doing so. Cammie is ten and fears pertaining to this issue are unnecessary. Cammie uses a gender neutral, private bathroom at school. Beyond that... her genitals are private and she has a right to that privacy.

Issues pertaining to complete disclosure will become more prevalent as Cammie approaches dating age. Cammie and I have discussed this issue in detail. It's an issue that creates a great deal of heartache for both of us. She understands that it will be necessary to be open about her medical circumstance. She understands that dating will introduce some extremely difficult challenges for her. I have explained that many young men may turn their tail and "run for the hills", but I believe that God has a plan for every child. I continually reassure Cammie that he has a plan for her life as well. I am teaching her to have faith in that plan. She may have to go "stag" to her high school prom... she may never get her chance to "dance".

I believe the Lord will "pave" the path that lies ahead. I believe he will continue to guide us in our journey. I have assured Cammie that her Heavenly Father knows her well, He loves her very much, and He is aware of her needs. I believe that one day there will be "one" who will not be afraid... he will be the right young man for her because he will have the character, and strength of spirit, to look beyond her physical challenges to love her for WHO she is. He will give her the chance to "dance".

Just as people who have children with Diabetes, Chron's Disease, asthma, or food allergies must educate those around them... I feel that I have a responsibility to educate others as well. I would rather be given the opportunity to share the truth with those who have questions and concerns, than keep silent and allow people to feel deceived or dwindle in their fears and misconceptions. I am willing to discuss these issues with those who sincerely ask.

Lyn raises some legitimate concerns... they reflect my own concerns. My child's life could be at risk if she is not completely "up front" in prospective dating and/or relationship situations. At that time she will have to be extremely courageous in addressing and divulging her medical condition. We are teaching her to love and accept herself so that she will be able to walk through life with the strength and courage to help others understand "who" she is. It's my prayer that Cammie will discover her divine purpose, then fulfill those "callings" in her life with poise and dignity.

Cammie is a girl and her diagnoses is physiological and biological in nature. She is being treated medically. This is not a choice for her and it is not a sexual issue - it's a developmental issue. Identity is not a sin... and it is not a disorder. However, the reality is that transgender conditions have been - and often continue to be - sexualized by society.

Cammie has a right to privacy... a right to have a normal childhood. She has the right to make friends without being required to say, "Hello, my name is Cammie - I was born with a penis". There is a time and a place for these delicate issues to be addressed... by those with the maturity and knowledge to responsibly do so.

We don't expect our diabetic children to walk around the school with a sign on their back that says... "I AM DIABETIC". However, when birthday cupcakes show up in a classroom and the child can't have one... questions abound... These situations present invaluable opportunities for education, for growth, and for learning. We have had many opportunities to teach those around us, to share our testimony of this experience, and to convey the truth. We have been blessed with the courage, strength, and wisdom to meet these challenges.

Cammie wears girls clothes because they reflect her gender identity, not as a means of manipulation or deceit. Cammie knows who she is and we are allowing her to be herself. My goal is to teach her not to be ashamed of her identity OR her physiological challenges. We are proud of our child... ALL OF HER. When she doesn't feel judged or threatened, she - too - courageously opens up about her experience... she freely discusses her challenges with those who sincerely ask.

Our family focus is on education. We have had multiple conversations with neighbors, friends, family members, co-workers, and school administrators... as well as Cammie's playmates and their parents. We have approached this situation with a desire to dispel the "FEAR" of the unknown, with the hope of making the world a better place for her, and other children like her. I know that there will be many bumps along the way, but we take one day at a time... despite the difficulties introduced by Cammie's circumstance... we have been greatly blessed.

Cammie is a normal girl. She has sleep overs and she sleeps over at other children's houses. Her friends play at our home and she plays at theirs. We have received a great deal of love and support - more than I imagined possible. Those individuals (both children and adults) who play a fundamental role in Cammie's life have been receptive to learning... they have opened their hearts with a willingness to overcome the "fear of the unknown"... fears that - I too - shared at one point in my life. My husband put it best, "Courage is not defined by a lack of fear... rather, it's the ability to act in spite of it." It takes courage for parents, educators, neighbors, family members, and friends to open their hearts to understanding these delicate issues. It has taken courage, built on a foundation of faith, to open up about our experience. We hope that our comfort in discussing these matters will open the door to compassion and understanding for our child, and make the world a better place for others.

Joshua 1:9 Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

In the Eyes of the Beholder...

The kids are off to school and I should be getting ready for work. This weekend has left me physically and emotionally drained... exhausted. There are days when I feel like I can't keep up... days when it seems I'm chasing a runaway train. On Saturday, the children's biological father picked them up to take them to their grandmother's house for the weekend. He shares a house with several roommates so when he spends any significant time with them, it's typically at his mother's place. She is not sympathetic to Cammie's plight, so when the children go to her house, Cammie stays home. It seems the woman would rather bury her head in the sand and pretend that she only has three grandchildren, than grow in understanding.

My heart breaks for Cammie. I can't imagine what it must feel like to be a child with the challenges that she faces each day. The boys typically come back from their grandmother's house with toys, clothes, and trinkets... gloating about "good times had by all"... so I find myself trying to compete... trying to give Cammie some palatable sweet memories that will wash away the bitterness and pain of isolation and rejection. What's most difficult, is that I desperately need some "me" time... time to myself that's not dominated by work demands, parenthood, transgender issues, or household responsibilities. I used to look forward to those rare occasions when the "X" would take the children so that I could have a moment of respite... time for introspection, rejuvination, and recovery. Embracing Cammie's gender identity has brought peace to her heart and mine... while simultaneously robbing me of some much needed simple pleasures.

This morning... I don't have the strength to do anything but sit alone with my thoughts... soaking up the silence of a deserted house like an aged sponge in the rain. At this very moment, a battle rages on inside my heart. I struggle to work through the helplessness that has become my constant companion. I have fought through frequent restless nights, accompanied by complete mental and physical exhaustion. There are days when I desperately wish the world were BLIND...

A few weeks ago while crossing the street in a crowd of people, I passed a blind man. As soon as we had reached the other side of the road, I heard a couple of ladies begin to discuss the tragedy of blindness. My thoughts were different. While their minds rushed to the devastating challenges presented by the absence of sight, I was thinking of all the amazing things this man could actually "see"... things that we often cannot, and for a moment... I envied him.

A blind man doesn't know if he's standing in the foyer of a mansion or on the floorboard of a rundown shack... all he "sees" is someone who cared enough to open the door...

A blind man doesn't know if he's riding in a Jaguar or a Pinto... all he "sees" is the generosity of the man who offered him a ride...

A blind man doesn't know if the person he's conversing with is transgender. He doesn't know if an individual is slender or obese, homely or attractive, gay or straight... all he "sees" is someone who took the time to speak.

This experience with my child has magnified the unfortunate truth... the realization that the eyes are the deceptors of the soul. Years ago, someone very special taught me this fundamental moral principle...

I had a beautiful experience while working as a home health nurse that refined my perspective of love, humanity, and something that I have internalized as the purpose of life. I was treating patients in North Birmingham. The census was down in my territory so I was cross-covering to meet productivity. Most of the nurses working for the agency refused assignments in the area because it was considered dangerous – heavily populated with inadequate economic resources. Unfortunately, where there’s poverty, there’s crime and where there’s crime, nurses are scarce – so when the census drops… guess where you land?

When I first began to cover the territory, I was paranoid! The best analogy would be the game, “which one of these things is not like the others” that they repeatedly played on Sesame Street when I was a kid. There I was, a naïve little white girl in a predominantly black neighborhood, wearing name brand clothes and driving an SUV. As I continued to work my new territory, I grew to love my assignments. Each patient that I had the opportunity to treat enriched my nursing experience and reminded me of the Savior’s love for all of us. The people in those communities lived humble lives and were desperately in need of medical treatment and education. The continuous expression of gratitude was overwhelming. They didn’t have much to share but were eager to share all they had. They would willingly open their homes and their hearts when they saw me coming and it wasn’t long before I realized the privileged opportunity in each assignment.

My favorite patient, and the one who always stands out in my mind, is Otis… I call him Odie. I don’t know why, but he changed my life. Otis is in his eighties. He’s a black man who was left paralyzed by a stroke. He can’t walk and has difficulty transferring so he sits in the same chair day in and day out watching Jerry Springer, Maury Povich, Court TV, etc – you know… the visual garbage. He lives alone in a rundown little house with bare white walls and filthy tile flooring and his television sits on an egg crate by the window. He has an old couch and a “new” recliner that his family bought for him a couple of years ago (he’s so proud of it that he refuses to remove the tags, so they still hang from the side – in better condition than the chair itself). He has a couple of faded tattoos that seem to illustrate his adventurous spirit and a lazy eye that wanders the room during conversation. He keeps a urinal and a bucket by the chair that he uses during the day. He sits there every day, wearing nothing but boxer shorts, and smokes his cigarettes.

He and I had the funniest banter. He had a necrotic wound on his foot that I was treating that resulted from peripheral vascular disease and a consequential amputation so I’d hide his cigarettes and fuss at him about keeping his feet elevated. He’d spat right back about how I needed to learn to mind my own business. I’d insist that, as his nurse, it was my business. He’d holler at me about closing the door and I’d gripe about the crap he watched on TV. He was quick to point out when I was late and fuss if I didn’t stay long enough and I’d remind him that I had other patients. On one visit when I was about to leave, he said, “No wonder why that man of yours left!”

I finished his statement, “because he’s a fool… and I left him, remember?”

He argued, “No, I believe he must’ve left you – because you’re bossy… bossy!” Then he hollered at me to bring him a Pepsi from the fridge and I jumped at the opportunity to spin it around…

“Now who’s being bossy? I’m not your maid!”

Suddenly, he was quiet and in that moment everything seemed to change… the mood in the room took a marvelous shift from playful to sincere and he replied, “No… You’re my friend.” He was right… I gladly fetched the drink.

I have a great deal of love and respect for Otis. He’s genuine and sincere with a pure heart. I learned something profound that afternoon when I went to see a patient in Mountain Brook. From rags to riches, I made my way through the projects of North Birmingham to the neighborhood on the other side of the city that seemed a world away from where I had just been, where the houses that line the streets look like castles in comparison. I couldn’t help but reflect on the experiences of my day. I thought about the judgments of society and wondered how many people would take the time to get to know Otis if they met him on the street. Would I have taken the time? I thought about how much we miss in life when we forfeit the opportunity to seek out the worth of others.

I wonder what the Savior "sees" when he looks on us? How will he judge? What impresses him the most? I can't help but think… what if the world were blind? What if success in society was determined by the content of one’s heart, rather than one’s checking account? The world would be a very different place… Instead of aspiring for bigger and better “things”, people would have an aspiration to be just like Otis. It brings me peace at times like this to put life in perspective. It helps when I'm feeling overwhelmed by the challenges in my life to be able to reflect on my experience with Odie and remember what it’s all about. Otis has told me that I am a blessing in his life and, of course, I had to argue... “It’s the other way around”... Otis taught me how to sincerely "see". We are blessed with opportunities to "see" every day... the tough part is recognizing them.

"Curses & Blessings..."

Cammie and I spent the weekend alone together. We went to the video store and just happened to select this movie. I didn't know what the movie was about... I based my decision on the cover. It looked like a movie that any ten year old girl would love. I didn't realize that the story would reflect Cammie's dilemma with judgement, criticism, and self-acceptance. It exemplifies our experience and illustrates the optimism and hope inspired by the courage to rise above the challenges in life, with the capability of "inspiring the world". The final line of the movie said it best... "It's not the curse... It's the power you give the curse". It's one o'clock AM... and as I lie here awake with her asleep beside me, I wonder... Was it a coincidence that we picked this up tonight??? Absolutely! As one friend frequently reminds me...

"Coincidence is God's way of acting anonymously"

Walk Tall... You're a Daughter of God.

Over the weekend Cammie had arranged a sleep over with her best friend. Her best friend has been her confidant for years and understands Cammie completely. Cammie has confided in Bailey when she didn't feel anyone else would understand. This child has been a huge blessing in my daughter's life. Of course, Cammie and Bailey have had numerous sleepovers, but this time Cammie was going to Bailey's house... in our old neighborhood... with all of Cammie's old friends... friends who knew her as a "boy". Needless to say, I was concerned about her safety - both from ridicule and physical harm. I told Cammie she could go and began to probe the thought process, "what are you going to wear? Are you going to..." She knew what I was about to ask and immediately interrupted with the assertion, "I'M GOING AS ME." I stood there... both shocked and amazed by her courage and conviction.

Thinking back, I had always known that Cammie would need strength. I knew that she would need to be firm in her sense of self. From the outset, I had acknowledged that she was different. In a house full of testosterone and three brothers, I had identified her interests early-on as mere eccentricities. I remember dropping the kids off at my mother's house when Cammie was 18 months old. My mom had a toy box full of diverse "gender-specific" toys for her grandsons and granddaughters to play with when they came to visit. Needless to say, Cammie loved to go to grandma's house because she had the "best" toys. She had "girl's" toys. Cammie could find things to play with that we didn't have at our house... toys that expressed her interest. I remember that this is when Cammie's sense of self started to notably emerge. It was so obvious that my family began to express concern over her consistent gender-variant expression. When I picked the kids up, Cammie wanted to take the toys with her so she could play with them at home. I remember getting home and finding that she had stashed a My Little Pony in my diaper bag. Cammie packed that toy around everywhere we went. Initially, I was distressed by the concerns expressed by those around me but finally made the determination that if the toys made "him" happy, then I didn't care what people thought. After all, Cameron was just a baby and didn't understand gender bias or expectation. I figured the "phase" would pass... there was nothing perverse about a child playing with any kind of toy.

Over time, Cammie began to identify as female - consistently asserting the "error" in her physical gender. I continued to dress her as a boy and use male pronouns when addressing her or referring to her. I tried to redirect her preferences to the things considered "gender appropriate". When these efforts were unsuccessful, I'd purchase toys that were considered gender neutral. As she grew older, there were fewer "gender-neutral" toys to choose from and even fewer that satisfied her interests. Eventually, I decided that it was important to nurture her self-esteem. I relented, and agreed to buy her the "girl's" toys that she loved. As she matured and developed friendships, I noticed that all of her friends were girls. When they would play house, she was always the mommy, the princess, the little girl, etc. I frequently noticed her wearing frilly shoes, girl's clothes, and jewelry around the house that had "inexplicably" migrated from her playmates' houses to her bedroom. When she was with her friends and able to express herself... she always had a smile on her face.

Although I had no idea what it meant to be transgender, I knew that she would eventually face an identity crisis. I knew that she would eventually have to reconcile her sense of self with the expectations of society. I knew that she would need to be strong, and that she would be faced with some significant pressure from those around her... so I always told her that I loved her just the way that she was, that she was beautiful, talented, and that it didn't matter what others thought. I figured that if she had a strong sense of SELF, she would be able to succeed in spite of the adversity that she was bound to encounter.

Finally, three years ago, school had just let out for the summer and she showed up in my room with an adamant request. She had decided that she was going to get her ears pierced. She had been pressing for permission for a while and I had been reluctant to grant the request because I knew that it would draw negative attention from friends, neighbors, family members, etc. She continued to persist so I finally relented with a condition. I told her that she could get her ears pierced if she could write me a letter with a compelling argument as to why she wanted to get it done and how she would address any negative attention, attitudes, or opinions directed at her as a result. She spun around, went downstairs, and began to diligently work on her letter. Moments later she returned with the argument in hand. It said...

"I want to get my ears pierced because when I am with my friends and we are playing dress-up, I am the only one who can't wear earrings. All of my friends have their ears pierced and I want mine pierced too. If people don't like that I get my ears pierced then that's their problem. They shouldn't judge someone all because they have a little hole in their ears. Besides, brown boys do it all the time and nobody says anything to them."

I was amazed at her clarity of mind and the perspective that she had at the age of six. I agreed to allow her to get her ears pierced and we went to the local boutique to get it done. What I remember about that evening is the unexpected emotions that I felt. I felt so uncomfortable... it bordered on embarrassment. I felt compelled to offer an explanation to the shop attendant, sure that she would say something derogatory or give Cameron an unwelcome look. A million scenarios played out in my mind. My heart was racing and my hands were shaking. The shop clerk told me to relax, and continued to alleviate my apparent anxiety by letting me know that lots of boys get their ears pierced. What stands out most in my mind when I reflect on this experience isn't my cowardly approach... but Cammie's courage. She sat in that chair with her chin up, holding a teddy bear, smiling and proud. She was SO excited. She was crossing bold gender lines... she was allowed to publicly express herself, and nothing else mattered... NOTHING. I felt emotionally conflicted... I was so proud of her courage and, consequently, ashamed of my lack of it. It was a time when I should have been reassuring her, holding her hand, and aleviating her fears... instead, I was selfishly consumed by my own. I remember thinking, "My God... I've created the proverbial monster."

I wanted her to be courageous and strong in her convictions and identity... It was obvious that she had exceeded my expectations. Meanwhile, I had failed to address my own convictions. I had neglected to consider weather I had the courage to support her - not just within the confines of our home - but publicly. Little did I know, at that time in our journey, the defining moments that lie ahead and the courage that I would discover with each step along the path to understanding.

I turned into the subdivision where we used to live. I dropped Cammie off in front of Bailey's house... in a familiar neighborhood... full of old friends... full of the past. She was so excited... wearing her hair piece, a breast cancer awareness T-shirt with the words "FIGHT LIKE A GIRL" boldly printed across the front in hot pink lettering, and a cute denim skirt with pink leggings underneath. She looked precious, there was no mistake - she was resolute in asserting her female self. It took every ounce of courage to pull away from the curb. I had to fight the overwhelming urge to turn around and "rescue" her from potential harassment. I waited all night with my cell phone close-by, expecting her to call, sobbing and devastated, over a verbal or physical attack... That call never came. When I picked her up, she said that she had a ton of fun. Her friends had questions, but she took the opportunity to explain "who" she is. They listened, accepted the explanation, and moved onto more important things... PLAY.

I realized something profound about how people react to "difference". If someone is different because they are searching for their identity, they often fall short of acceptance. If someone is different because they irrefutably know who they are, acceptance abounds. We are drawn to the qualities that we hope to develop in ourselves... courage and self-confidence are charismatic traits that seem to solicit admiration, regardless of the circumstance. I have been amazed at how quickly people are able to "see" beyond Cammie's physical challenges when she demonstrates these qualities.

When I look at my child, I am extremely proud of her courage. She gives me strength every day. I wish that she could consistently demonstrate and maintain the optimism that she expressed this weekend, but she often feels overwhelmed by the heavy challenges in her life. Most of us have the ability to separate ourselves from our fears. We've all heard of the "fight or flight" response. It's human nature to distance ourselves from the things that terrify us. If we fear the dark, we sleep with a night-light. If we're afraid of spiders, we arm ourselves with raid, bug bombs, and moth balls. What do you do when your most profound fears in life exist within the confines of your own body? There is no escape... there is no "flight". There are days when Cammie's fears produce anxiety, become extremely overwhelming, and challenge her ability to "fight".

When I reflect on "the parable of the box"... I recognize that there will be many days when Cammie's "box" will feel extremely heavy and she'll struggle with the challenge introduced by each step. There have been times that she has felt so exhausted with the burden of that box that she has "lost her footing". These days of self-doubt... the days when she "drops the box" have become my darkest hours... Nothing hurts more than helplessly watching your child struggle, without the ability to relieve their pain. During these challenging times - I sit down beside her, hold her close, offer encouragement, nurture her spirit, and - together - we pray for renewed strength. What impresses me the most about my child is her resiliency and the amazing determination that she demonstrates each time she picks herself up... with the resolution to take another step.

The "Fan Club"

So... a few months ago I overslept. It wasn't an isolated incident by any means, but I had some classes to teach at one of my hosptials and (evidently)I was running late. Caleb had already left for the school bus by the time I made my way out the door. As I reached the end of the drive where the children wait for the bus, he attempted to flag me down... big smile on his face... and SO excited to see me. I knew what he wanted... to simply kiss me and tell me goodbye. I was in such a rush that I mouthed, "I don't have time right now!" and frantically pulled away. I proceeded down the road. In the rearview mirror I could see him... standing there... completely still... watching me drive away. Then the thought crossed my mind... What if this is the last time I see him? Do I want his last memory of me to be the fact that I didn't care enough to take the time' to slow down for a moment and kiss him goodbye? Do I want my last memory of him to be the hurt and disappointed look on his face as he disappeared in my rearview mirror?

I made it another minute or two up the road, until I could find a safe place to turn around. I went back to the bus stop, rolled my window down, and called him over to the car. I held his face in my hands, looked him straight in the eye and said, "Nothing is as important as you." I gave him a big hug and a kiss, and told him to have a great day at school before I said goodbye and drove away. As I pulled off, I looked - once again - in my rearview mirror... by the look on his face, I knew that I had gotten it right.

We all feel so invincible... immune from the tragedies of life. The reality is that everything can change in an instant. I have no control over the Lord's plan for the lives of those that I love, but I do have control over my relationship with them while we're blessed with time together here. I never want to live with the regret of a missed opportunity.

The thing is that we're human and we make mistakes. Sometimes we lose focus... but the beauty of life is that often we are blessed with a "side road" that will provide an opportunity to "turn the car around" and rectify the wrong.

As I have come to truly understand Cammie, I have had to face the pain created by ten long years of blindness. I have asked myself - on numerous occasions - how I could have failed to see what has been obvious from the beginning? Once again... I find myself hoping that my child will have the strength to forgive my imperfection as I "turn the car around".

I have found comfort in a journal entry that I wrote in 2006 following my divorce from Cammie's father. Cammie's unconditional love and ability to look past my imperfection has inspired me through some of the most difficult challenges of my life. I am doing all I can to offer her the same blessing...

(At the time, Cammie was living her life in compliance with social expectations, so I have left the pronouns in their former state to preserve the integrity of the journal)


January 3, 2006

I was prepared and expected most of the typical trials associated with divorce. Everyone talks about the struggles of managing emotions, finances, and legalities but very little could have prepared me for the inevitable sacrifice of time that immediately had an impact as I struggled to maintain and cultivate quality relationships with my children.

I resigned from my nursing position at the hospital and took a job in home health as a Case Manager in an effort to provide for a more consistent presence in the lives of my children. I had been promised a territory much closer to home and the position was self-directed which, on the surface, offered a great deal of flexibility which I had hoped would introduce a solution to my conflicted situation.

A new dilemma manifest itself when I discovered that the home health agency that I had contracted with couldn’t accept patients in the territory that I had been assigned because they didn’t have a physical therapist to back me. Since you can’t ask a physician to refer patients to home health with the contingency that they don’t require physical therapy, I was required to pick up the “scraps” in order to meet productivity. This meant driving to any and all territories where coverage was desperately needed. These territories frequently included remote locations and dangerous neighborhoods. My situation at home went from bad to worse. I would leave the house at six o’clock in the morning and get home at nine o’clock at night, cover anywhere from two-hundred and fifty to three-hundred miles each day and see as few as three to five patients. I had driven more than seven thousand miles in less than one month. I started working weekends to cover the excessive gas bill as well as the expenses associated with vehicle maintenance so that I could keep up with my finances. I seldom had time in the evening to devote to the needs of my children and they frequently complained because I was never there. When I did have extra time, I would confine myself to the bedroom and do paperwork in an attempt to stay “on top” of my cases.

I had always taken pride in being a good nurse and I loved my patients and co-workers dearly. I’d frequently bend over backwards to cover any staffing or patient care deficits, but it wasn’t long before my performance at work began to slip. I simply couldn’t meet the demands created by the circumstances in my life. I was falling short in my parenting and household responsibilities as well. I had “Mount Everest” in the form of laundry heaped on the kitchen floor and dirty dishes piled in the sink. I had no idea how the children were performing in school and they frequently vocalized their resentments regarding my lack of involvement in their lives. I was unable to execute well in any area of personal or professional responsibility and the demands on my time became overwhelming. I felt absolutely despondent as I struggled to find a solution. With four children under the age of eight to provide for without child support and without family nearby to turn to for help, the prospect of losing my job produced a great deal of anxiety so I devoted more energy to my duties at work.

It's difficult to explain the responsibilities of life to a child. There were times when I wondered if they would ever understand the love and sacrifice that constituted a lack of presence in our home and the frequent demands that seemed to take priority at work. At one point I experienced absolute burnout in the form of an emotional breakdown. I stood in my supervisor’s office and sobbed. I had been working twelve to fourteen hour days each week in an effort to make ends meet and was absolutely exhausted. I desperately longed to be with my children. In my devastation I confided in her, a divorced parent of three sons herself, "Do you think they'll ever get it? Will they ever really understand?" A serene smile spread across her face and her response gave me hope, "Oh yes, and someday... they'll be your biggest fans."

I discovered that she was right in the weeks that followed when I was blessed with a beautiful experience that answered my question and put my heart at ease. My son, Cameron, was always the first to complain when I couldn't afford to buy him something that he wanted, and was quick to fault me when I couldn't spend the kind of time with him that I had always hoped to devote to the lives of my children. He is a very creative child and his favorite activity, at that time, seemed to be wasting my card stock and printer paper with his many "quality pieces of artwork". I would frequently find mounds of paper that had been wasted on scrappy illustrations and doodles. I consistently hounded him about what constitutes waste and explained that although his drawings were very beautiful, I needed my paper for work. On this night, in particular, he and I engaged in a heated discussion about what he considered "appropriate and necessary paper usage". To make a long story short, I kicked him out of my office. There were times when Cam didn’t get his way that I was convinced he absolutely hated me and this was one of those moments.

The next day, I arrived home late from work. I had tension in my neck from the stressors of the day and a pile of paperwork to get done. My former husband was getting remarried and the boys had accompanied him out of town for the wedding. Needless to say, I was feeling emotionally overwhelmed. Although I was surrounded by silence, everything around me seemed to scream for attention from the unkempt house to the pile of paperwork waiting to be completed. I grabbed a bite to eat, set my emotions aside, and made my way to the office. I began to leaf through Cameron’s “portfolio” of doodles and drawings for a clean sheet of paper. As I did, a post-it note briskly fluttered to the ground. My hands gently froze in motion as my eyes dropped to the precious illustration at my feet. Banned from the printer paper, Cameron had resorted to drawing on a promotional pharmacology pad of post-it notes and his masterpiece had fallen from the pile. As I picked it up, my eyes flooded with tears. It was a rudimentary sketch of me that sweetly captured the moral of the story and offered the peace of mind that I so desperately needed.

It was an endearing portrait of a nurse with a big smile on her face. She had long, flowing hair and wore a large white hat with a cross boldly scratched on the front. In the background was a gurney. On top of the gurney lied a patient, his legs and arms pointed straight up in the air as if he had just keeled over. The desperate grimace sloped across his face indicated the need for immediate medical attention. The nurse looked heroic, larger than life in the forefront of the medical emergency. The word “mom” was affectionately written on the side.

To this day that memory stirs strong emotions when I reflect on the realization that somehow my young child was able to see beyond the circumstance that complicated our relationship. His admiration came in recognition of my efforts, regardless of my limited capabilities. At that time in my life, I was blessed with what I needed most… to catch a glimpse of myself through the eyes of my child. I needed to realize that regardless of my apparent inability to meet all of his expectations, somehow he understood. That night, for the first time following the divorce, I felt comforted and knew that everything would be okay. Cameron, who was often the most critical of my efforts was, in fact, a member of the “Mommy Fan Club”.

There is a profound moral to the story. I now realize that it’s not the quantity of time that you spend with your children, but rather the quality of time that matters the most. As I reflect on my own childhood, the memories that stand out in my mind are the seemingly insignificant events that have become sacred over time. Love was expressed through the little things like helping dad wash Old Red Eye, family trips in the country on Saturday afternoons, floating the river on inner tubes, Sunday dinners at grandma’s house, and my most favorite memory of all… sitting on the bathroom countertop while dad methodically scrubbed the grease from his hands after work. He would patiently and enthusiastically listen to every detail of my young life and as the dirty water drained from the sink, any feeling of discouragement, hurt, or disappointment would drain from my heart.

Multiple books, magazines, and newspaper articles discuss the relationship between wayward children and single parenthood, directly attributing one to the other. Of course it’s always best to have a solid family unit that consists of a mother and a father, unified in nurturing the children in a traditional family setting. However, these publications can offer little hope to parents whose circumstances fall outside of the social norm. What for them? Are they doomed to raise misguided children? I have come to realize that regardless of circumstance, quality parenting requires quality time. We need to utilize the time that we are blessed with to create the occasion to teach moral principles in a manner that will leave a lasting impression. We need to teach, both in word and deed, those principles that will strengthen our children and direct their paths toward greatness. Life will inevitably provide the opportunities, but it is a parental responsibility to identify and embrace them.

Proverbs 22:6 Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.

I have learned a valuable lesson from my child... a child who had the capacity to look beyond the physical limitations on my time, energy, and body. I am following her example. By learning to do likewise - I have learned to love perfectly... I have learned to love with the heart of a child...

My sentiments exactly... Charity of the heart from an LDS (Mormon) perspective...

http://mormanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/pondering-complexities-of-transgender.html

If the Shoe Fits...

We have encountered persistent criticism and concern from a handful of people who have questioned our understanding of Cammie's condition and the decision we have made to support her gender expression. These concerns seem to reflect the underlying question, "What if you're wrong?"...

I walk each day by Cameron's side... when she faces the challenges imposed by the heartache and pain of emotional, physical, and spiritual rejection... I am there - holding her hand. I have watched, helplessly, as each obstacle has battered her beautiful spirit. I have come to realize through faith, love, and the mercy of my Heavenly Father that he doesn't expect me to ignore her suffering. I have been inspired with the impression that the time has come to find the answers... to take a stand... to listen to the whispering of her heart... and to advocate for her peace and happiness.

Cameron is a courageous, beautiful child. I am thankful for what she has taught me and the inspiration that she gives me each day. The Christ-like perseverance and enduring courage that she has demonstrated, illustrates her divine nature.

Gender is foreordained... This is why - regardless of the pronouns we used, what clothing we bought, or the social pressures that she has faced... Cammie has remained true to herself and consistently asserted her female gender identity.

Cameron is, and has always been, a girl. For ten long years, I naively jumped to the conclusion that her temporal, physical body would define her - spiritually. In reality, I should have listened to her and looked beyond those physical characteristics, with a focus on spiritual truth.

The majority of us are fortunate to experience mortal bodies that harmonize with our gender identity... but Cammie, and many children like her, face the challenge of waking up each day to a life shrouded in misunderstanding, based on the expectation of biological norms.

I have a testimony of my Heavenly Father. I know that we have been blessed by his companionship and we are being guided in the challenges that we face each day. To those standing on the outside of this experience who feel compelled to point a finger of scorn or preach "hell and damnation" from atop a soap-box, or pulpit - I pose this question...

What kind of joy would celestial glory be if I knew that I had attained it by sacrificing my child??? I would gladly surrender this "interpretation" of eternal salvation for Cammie's happiness. My celestial experience will come from the peace of knowing that I opened my heart and soul to the unconditional love and acceptance of my child which has provided her with an opportunity for peace.

My cconcept of hell is best defined by a popular idea of Heaven... the "heaven" that I would (supposedly) experience by embracing the personal benefits of blindly and willingly contributing to the inner-turmoil, pain, suffering, and spiritual devastation of my child??? Given the expectations and sacrifice required to achieve it... I consider it a privilege to fall short.

A testimony is defined as "an assertion offering first-hand authentication of a fact." I have been blessed with first-hand experience in this matter and have gained a testimony of my child's spiritual being. I cannot deny this truth... just as I will not deny that Christ is my Savior and Redeemer. I refuse to stand before my Heavenly Father and explain why I failed to acknowlege the answers in my life and the guidance that He has provided. I WILL NOT stand before Him and explain why I valued the opinions of others above the witness that He has given me. For those who don't understand - allow me to simplify it for you... I would much rather be "condemned" for loving my child too much... than be "condemned" for not loving her enough.

I don't have all the answers, but I faithfully cherish the ones I've been given. The unconditional love I feel for Cameron has led me to a place of enlightenment and understanding. By having the courage to listen to the promptings of the spirit and disregard the commonly accepted traditions of society, I have discovered a beautiful daughter of God - suffering alone in the dark. As her mother, I will do all I can to understand her, love and accept her unconditionally, ease her pain, and guide her path to peace.

True happiness comes from within... through inner peace, love of others, charity, self-realization, and a personal relationship with God... each, a prerequisite to spiritual harmony. I am thankful for the blessings in my life... realized through the opportunity that I have been given to truly "see" and understand my child.

For those individuals who prefer to cling to social "norms" and reject the unconditional love, support, and understanding that we have devoted to our daughter - I pose this question... "Would you like to take a walk in my shoes???"

We should never be so blinded by our personal convictions that we callously disregard the experience of others, formulate preconceived judgements about their lives and relationship with God, or fail to consider the potential for spiritual growth offered by their experience. I have gained a testimony about the nature of TRUTH... Sometimes it's discovered in unlikely places... and taught through unexpected experiences.

Cammie has found peace, she is finally happy...

Her happiness has become our TRUTH.

(Matthew 7:20 - By their fruits ye shall know them)

The Parable of the Box...

Encouraging Cammie to trust her Heavenly Father has been extremely challenging. Once I made the decision to embrace her gender identity, I realized how strained her relationship with the Lord had become. I have always taught her that she was created by a Heavenly Father who loves her... Meanwhile, I neglected to understand her... sending her into the world dressed in boys clothes with a short haircut and the unspoken expectation that she conform to the gender roles of society. These innocent discrepancies between her gender identity and her body have caused a great deal of inner-conflict, heartache, and pain. She has struggled to understand why a "loving Heavenly Father" would intentionally create her with the extreme challenges that tormented her life.

Cammie and I have a wonderful relationship. She has opened up with me on numerous occasions about her feelings and the frustration and anger that she feels toward her Heavenly Father. Her hurt has come from feeling like a "cast away"... dejected and spiritually disposed by Him. I have worked diligently to help her understand that these impressions didn't come from the Lord... they are impressions that developed as the result of a conflicted social existence, plagued by misunderstanding. Recently, she and I had a conversation that provided a beautiful opportunity for healing...

I had been reading a newly released book about transgender children, paying particular attention to a chapter devoted to overcoming challenges in school. The book suggested that parents of transgender children prepare them for the potential ridicule they could encounter from peers in their academic environment. The author recommended role-playing, as well as discussing various responses to comments that might be made. The goal is to strengthen and prepare the child for the challenges that lie ahead. I called Cammie in to my bedroom and we began to discuss the potential for torment and ridicule. She acknowledged that it would be difficult and said that she was prepared to face those who were likely to bully and tease her. I continued to try and verbalize a variety of scenarios. Cammie's head dropped and her eyes filled with tears. She said, "I don't understand why I have to go through this. Nobody knows what it's like to be me. Why can't I just be a normal girl? I am so angry... why did Heavenly Father do this to me? Why would he make me this way?" The crying continued.

My dad has always said, "a parent is only as happy as their most miserable child." Given this truth, it's not surprising that my heart was breaking as I sat beside her and shared her pain. I have come to realize that during these humble moments of complete helplessness, the Lord lends his spirit to provide peace and guidance...

In that moment, I was blessed with the words to help her understand. I talk all the time... and those who know me would testify to the fact that I am seldom quiet, but I have never experienced anything like the conversation that followed. I told Cameron not to be angry with the Lord. I explained that although Heavenly Father doesn't make mistakes, he does assign the most difficult tasks in life to his strongest children. She looked perplexed and I could tell that she still didn't understand. As I continued to speak, the words began to roll off my tongue so quickly that I didn't have time to formulate thoughts... I continued to express the impressions that I received and as I spoke, I began to listen - becoming an audience to my own words...

"Let me explain... If I had a really heavy box and I needed someone to move it... would I ask John to lift it for me... or would I ask Caleb?" (John is Cammie's step-dad. He's six foot, four inches tall and weighs over two-hundred and fifty pounds. Caleb is her twelve year old brother).

She thought for a moment then said, "John"...

"Why?" I asked.

"Because he's strong."

"Why does that matter?" I continued.

"Because he could lift the box."

"Exactly..."

She sat there for a moment and I could see her putting the analogy together in her mind. I continued to explain, "I understand why you are so frustrated... Heavenly Father has given you an extremely heavy box, but it's important that you understand why he gave it to you. He gave you this box because He knows you are very strong... He believes in you... He loves you... and He knows that you have the strength and the courage to pick it up and carry it."

In that moment, I could see that Cammie was beginning to understand the privilege of adversity.

I am so thankful for the precious moments of inspired thought while teaching my child to grow beyond the unique challenges in her life. I have been greatly blessed by sacred moments of enlightenment. Those moments have defined this experience and guided our path.

By choosing to use a faith-based compass, trust the love of our Father in Heaven, and follow the promptings of the spirit... we have been greatly blessed. At times, it has been extremely overwhelming to consider the numerous obstacles that lie ahead, but I have come to realize - during the most difficult challenges in life - that we are NEVER alone. Somehow, this realization has made "the box" lighter to lift and easier to carry. I hope that in time Cammie will discover the privilege of opposition and understand the value of "The Box"...

"Opposition is the privileged price we must pay to become acquainted with God"

Overcoming adversity...

The most profound limitations in life...
are the ones we place on ourselves.

http://blog.al.com/spotnews/2009/04/11yearold_pelham_ala_boy_whose.html

The Beauty of a "smile"...

I grew up in a small town. We had one local mall which, being a teenage girl, I "frequented" with my friends. My thoughts lately have been drawn to an individual who also "frequented" that shopping center. She was an extremely gifted artist who spent most of her days on a bench in the mall with her chalks and canvas... drawing, etching, and interpreting the world around her. The aspect of her life that drew the most attention wasn't the fact that she spent more time in the mall than I did (which was truly an accomplishment), or the fact that she was an amazing and gifted artist. The most fascinating part about her at the time was the fact that she was quite evidently a biological male. She was very tall and broad in stature, and tried to conceal her budding beard with heavy make-up. She had long hair and frequently wore hats (perhaps - in part - to mask her insecurities or possibly block the incessant stares from passers-by). She always wore dresses with thick tights. I distinctly remember the dresses because they looked like they had come directly from my grandmother's closet. I remember how my girlfriends and I used to giggle about something that we couldn't possibly understand or remotely relate to at the time... both her wardrobe, and her cross-gender manner of expression. I can still remember some of the comments that were made... "Is that a she or a him?" It quickly became a joke and soon she had earned the nicname, "Shim".

Looking back now, what stands out in my mind isn't what we saw when we looked at her... it's all of the things that we failed to truly "see". I was blessed with an experience in my life that taught me this profound principle...

I had scarcely graduated high school and was faced with the daunting task of finding something constructive to do with my time. A job seemed like an obvious solution, so I scavenged the classified ads in the newspaper in an effort to find some direction for my newfound freedom. There were all sorts of listings for new graduates, but my eyes immediately settled on an opportunity for training as a Certified Nursing Assistant offered by a local convalescent center. I responded to the ad and within days I was scheduled for an interview. I didn’t really know what to expect. I had worked through high school at the local Frosty Freeze, but in a town where literally everybody knows one another ~ job interviews are an unnecessary formality.

I dressed up in preparation for the interview and naively made my way across town to the advertised location. Very little could have prepared me for the unique world that existed beyond those doors or for the impact that decision would soon have on my life. I pulled the heavy door open and stepped into the front lobby. An unpleasant odor immediately caught me by surprise. I was unsure of the source, but absolutely positive it was a discovery I didn’t want to make. The walls were a neutral beige color and the front lobby was tastefully decorated. Just beyond the lobby was a hall that led to the residential area.

I immediately noticed a man wandering down the hall wearing flannel boxer shorts and white socks. He wore his shoes over his hands like boxing gloves and if anybody walked too close, he would attempt to clobber them. For the most part, people seemed familiar with the behavior, and diverted to a generous radius around him. Another man and woman aimlessly wandered the hall hand in hand, repeatedly asking one another outlandish questions. Neither one had any answers to offer the other, but they seemed to stick together in a blissful state of confusion.

The secretary interrupted my observation, took my name, and left the room to announce my arrival. Meanwhile, I took a seat near a little old lady who was hunched over in a chair, peacefully resting in the lobby. Her hair was glossy white and her head bobbed with delight as she struggled to look at me through the thick glasses that grossly magnified her eyes. She smiled, and spoke very loud to compensate for an apparent hearing deficit,

“What’s your name?!” she asked.

“Christina” I said.

“Where ya’ from?!” she inquired.

“Montana” I replied.

She perked right up, “I lived in Montana years ago… my husband worked in a mine out there!”

“What part?”

I looked over to observe her response but as quickly as I had asked the question, she had nodded off to sleep. I wondered if she was narcoleptic and decided it would be best to let her rest. I selected a magazine from the coffee table and began to leaf through the pages. Moments later she awoke, interrupting the silence with a loud inquiry,

“What’s your name?!”

“Christina”

“Where ya’ from?!”

“Montana”

“I lived in Montana once… my husband worked in a mine out there!”

For a moment I sat confused, wondering if I had stepped into a geriatric episode of the twilight zone. Before I could figure it out, the secretary returned and escorted me to the nurse administrator’s office. The interview went well and I was immediately offered the position. Something felt right about the opportunity so I readily accepted. As I passed through the lobby on my way out the door, my new friend awoke once again,

“Hey! What’s your name?!”

I didn’t want to be rude so I decided to play along,
“Christina”

“Where ya’ from?!”

“France”

“I’ve never been to France…”

I was in a hurry and decided to cut the conversation short. Besides, I was fairly certain there would be other opportunities to set the record straight.
In the weeks that followed, I attended classes where I learned the clinical aspects of the job and shadowed a preceptor who demonstrated the processes and procedures associated with various physical care requirements. After a few short weeks, I had completed the training and was scheduled to work independently.

I showed up for my first shift and waited for my patient assignment. It wasn’t long before I noticed that one patient, in particular, seemed to be the topic of considerable debate. Her name was Lavelle. Every day the assistive staff would show up early and clamor over one another to avoid being assigned to her care. The controversy stirred some curiosity and I decided to personally explore the root of the problem so I showed up early for work the next day. When the bidding began, I volunteered to take the assignment. An astonished silence fell over the group and the look of comedic apprehension was obvious on the faces of my co-workers. A moment passed before the silence was broken by an outburst of laughter. Assigning a new C.N.A. to Lavelle’s care was the equivalent of throwing a tea cup Chihuahua to the mercy of a ravenous Pit-bull. Eager to avoid the “rotten egg”, they readily agreed to the request.

I entered the room expecting to find a monster, and there lay a frail little old woman. She was considerably debilitated, suffering from an apparent musculoskeletal condition that caused significant immobility. Her frizzy brown hair framed the grimace on her stern face, and a large chip in her front tooth created a whistle when she barked commands. “Who are you?” she demanded with a hint of disdain. I introduced myself and explained that I was new. She rolled her eyes, disgusted by the notion of being assigned to a rookie. So it began… the hours that followed would qualify as an initiation to say the least. I struggled through the night in an effort to meet her repetitive demands for assistance. Several co-workers smirked with satisfaction as I wore a path in the tile. Back and forth, I scurried in a vigilant effort to keep up with her expectations. By the end of the night I was completely exhausted. I clocked out and made my way back to her room. I poked my head through the door, “Good night, Lavelle, it was good to meet you. I’ll see you smile tomorrow.” The grimace on her face converted to a stoic expression of utter rebellion. She didn’t say a word, but in the days that followed her actions revealed a relentless determination to run me off. Lavelle had finally met her match. I was equally determined not to give her the satisfaction, and an unspoken challenge ensued.

Each day I would show up and request to be assigned to her care, and each night she did her best to discourage me. I tried everything to make a difference in her attitude. I told jokes and shared humorous stories. Most days I left the facility feeling like a complete fool, but my commitment to the cause was unwavering. At the end of each shift I’d pop my head through the door and remind her of my obnoxious objective, “Goodnight Lavelle, I’ll see you smile tomorrow.” Every night she’d look at me, shake her head, and remain silent.

Several weeks had passed and I had become discouraged in my resolve. I had decided to give it one more try before submitting to her stubbornness. I approached her room with considerable apprehension. As I entered, I noticed something brown oozing from her ear and running down the side of her face. I panicked, unsure of the source,
“Lavelle! Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

Convinced that her hearing had been damaged, I rushed to the bedside for a closer look. I noticed something metallic saturated in brown drainage, protruding from her ear canal. I examined it for a moment before realizing the source of the problem. I started to laugh and within moments was hysterical and struggling to regain composure. Lavelle watched with a shocked expression, trying to figure out what the commotion was all about. When I had finally gotten my laughter under control, I wiped the tears from my eyes and asked, “Lavelle, sweetie, whatcha got in your ear?”

She snapped, “It’s my hearin’ aid!”

I started to laugh again, “I don’t think so...”

She reached up with her hand and removed the sticky ball of foil from her outer ear. By this time, I was back in hysterics, overcome with laughter. She looked closely at the object, then began to chuckle with the realization of what she had done. I collapsed onto the bed beside her and we lay there for several minutes giggling over the obvious oversight.

Lavelle was a chocoholic and kept a candy jar full of Hershey’s kisses at the bedside. Her son would dutifully refill the jar each day during their afternoon visit. Apparently, she had mistaken one of the kisses for her hearing aid. By the time I made my rounds, it had completely melted and the chocolate was oozing from her ear.

The incident was a huge breakthrough for both of us. We resigned our challenge to a stalemate. In the days that followed, she and I grew to be quite close. If she attempted to ignore me I would just say, “Did you hear me Lavelle? Maybe you need to clean the rest of that chocolate out of your ears.” It was guaranteed to bring a smile to her face. Before long, she familiarized herself with my schedule and looked forward to my workdays. When I was off, sometimes I’d stop by just to sit and visit. Not long after that, I could elicit a smile by merely walking in the room. If Lavelle was being difficult and I wasn’t working, I’d receive a call at home, “Can you please talk to her?”

Several months had passed since Lavelle and I first met and I was at home when I received the call. Lavelle had passed away in her sleep. I remember feeling the intense loss of a dear friend. I returned to work a couple of days later. Her son, John, was sitting in the empty room, sorting through her things. I stood in the doorway. “You know,” he said, “She really did love you.” I sat down beside him, “I know - I really loved her too.” I put my arm around his shoulder while we sat there on her bed and absorbed the moment. He took my hand and placed some kisses in my palm, then cradled it closed. Neither of us said a word… it wasn’t necessary. We just looked at each other and communicated from the heart.

Before he left, he invited me to attend her funeral and I graciously accepted the invitation. The following Saturday I showed up at the church and scavenged the crowded parking lot for an empty space. I walked through the front door and had scarcely taken off my coat when John rushed over to welcome me, “I want you to meet the family.” I was overwhelmed by the introduction to all of the important people in Lavelle’s life. I met children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, cousins, siblings, and numerous family friends. “You have to sign the guestbook,” he insisted. He walked over by the casket, picked it up, and brought it back to me.

I sat down and signed my name, then handed it back. John took the pen from my hand, then beside my signature he drew a happy face and wrote, “The one who made her smile.” I struggled to contain my emotion. I looked over at Lavelle who finally seemed to be at peace. I hardly recognized her. She was beautifully dressed with a string of pearls around her neck. Her hair, once frizzy, was now softly curled around her face. She looked absolutely beautiful.

I learned so much as I sat there that day and listened to the accomplishments and successes of her life. She was a hard working and sensible woman who had successfully raised several children. As the matriarch of her family, she was committed to taking care of those around her. She had a love and appreciation for the outdoors and took pride in yard work and gardening. She had devoted her time and talents to serving others, both in her church and community.

As I sat and listened to all the amazing attributes of this remarkable woman, the picture came into focus. Of all the challenges in her life, her greatest trial settled on the feelings of uselessness that accompanied being trapped in a body that could no longer meet her expectations for life. Her illness forced her into a state of total helplessness that she irrefutably despised.

I grew to love Lavelle during her greatest challenge and in retrospect, a mere snapshot in time. I wondered how those who never took the time to look beyond the circumstances that adversely affected her life would have responded to her outside of those influences.

There is a profound moral to the story. As I reflect on my experiences with Lavelle, I can't help but think about the woman from the mall. I am reminded of the importance of every relationship in life... from our closest friends, to the seemingly insignificant casual acquaintances and I have come to realize something profound...

Like a photo album, life is composed of a series of “snapshots”. Each experience captures a portion of our existence. Some of the images are good and some are bad, but all of them, once pieced together, become life. My time with Lavelle was based on a mere snapshot of her mortality. Once I made the determination to look beyond that isolated image in time and embrace the entire “album” of her existence, I was able to truly understand my friend.

Lavelle taught me something valuable about people and relationships. She taught me not to judge others by the “snapshots” in life...

Take time to love the spiteful, be generous with the selfish, offer kindness to the cruel, lend understanding to the critic, and forgive the unforgivable. When we take time to look beyond isolated images in life, spiritual truths will finally come into focus.

Somewhere in the world a guestbook, dedicated to the life of someone I love, is neatly tucked away. Inside is a tender reminder of one of the most treasured lessons of my life... neatly noted, with a happy face illustration.

I have been blessed - in a very personal way - with an invaluable opportunity to look beyond that faded "snapshot" of the woman from the mall. My child suffers the same challenges everyday. She faces them with optimism and hope, and the belief that those who cross her path in life will care enough to turn the page, and open their hearts to all of the beautiful qualities and attributes that lie beyond the fleeting "snapshots" of her existence.

The world is full of God's children (old and young), many of whom suffer in bodies that cannot meet their expectations for life. Some are like Cammie or the woman from the mall, while others are like Lavelle - but all of them are struggling with profound mortal obstacles - with a basic need for understanding, love, and acceptance. I believe in the good of humanity... I believe that those who take the time to "see", will be blessed by the beauty of a "smile".

The most beautiful butterfly!

When Cameron was little, as most kids do, she quoted various scenes in her favorite movies. After she watched A Bug's Life... she ran around the house doing her best to imitate the scene where Heimlich, the Caterpillar, turns into a "beautiful butterfly". She would imitate the character, lower her voice, and say... "I'm finished! I'm the most beautiful butterfly!" It was hilarious... and we all used to laugh...

When I watch the clip of this Disney movie, I can identify a parallel in my child's life. Throughout the film, Heimlich talks with great anticipation about the day he will become a butterfly. Although, his transformation was hardly significant to those around him, he felt beautiful. He had found his wings, but needed a little help "getting off the ground". It's interesting how a children's cartoon can perfectly exemplify Cammie's experience. Physically, nothing has changed about Cammie except for the pronouns we use and the clothes she wears. Emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically - however - things are profoundly different...

When we first decided to support Cameron and share the news with those closest to us, we received a variety of responses and I felt my confidence waiver with each "nay sayer" that I encountered.

From the time I was a little girl, my parents had repeatedly expressed their frustration by saying, "a thousand people can think you're wonderful, Christina... but if one person doesn't approve of you, it rocks your world."

We like to believe that as we grow older, we change in profound ways... but it seems in adulthood, I have become a physically mature version of the same little girl, with the same fears and insecurities. I knew what it would take for Cammie to find peace and happiness but I wanted everyone around me to share my perspective, understand our challenge, and support my decisions. I struggled each day with those who didn't approve... digging deep and sifting through my psychological, spiritual, and emotional reserve for any scrap of strength or wisdom that could get me through. I've always had an ambitious "change the world" mentality but when faced with the challenge to pioneer a cause, I felt my confidence wane and a million doubts and "what ifs" haunted my mind.

My dad came for a visit. Naturally, he had a lot of questions. I did my best to answer them but found myself trying to be convincing - rather than informative. I was overcompensating for my own insecurities. There were times when I would step outside of the situation and try to catch a glimpse of the view from the outside. I would find myself doubting our reality with a variety of invasive thoughts, "this is absolutely nuts! What are you doing? You must be crazy!" I think that Cameron sensed my insecurity and was privy to many of the conversations that I was having with my father. She began to follow me around the house. Everywhere I went, I had a Shadow. If I went to the bathroom and ran out of toilet paper, I was in luck because I had a personal bathroom attendant. At one point my dad made the comment that attention can be very addictive and questioned whether or not I had considered that Cameron's actions might be symptomatic of a greater need for attention. My dad has always been a trusted friend, confidant, and advisor. With Cammie's recent onset of separation anxiety, I felt myself entertaining the possibility that this might, in fact, be a ploy for attention.

It all came to a head when my father and I made plans to run a couple of errands. Cameron wanted to come and when I told her that she wasn't invited... that dad and I needed some time to talk in private, she began to panic - verbalizing her objections to being left behind. I was feeling overwhelmed, frustrated, and confused by her behavior. I turned around and shouted, "Why do you have to go with me everywhere I go?! Why do you have to have my undivided attention?! Is this why you act like a girl.... because you want my attention?!"

The room fell silent. She didn't have to say a word... I could have kicked her in the gut and it wouldn't have had more of an impact. She was evidently devastated. Her eyes welled up with tears, she solemnly shook her head in denial, and quietly headed down the hall. I took a moment to calm down before talking to her. I found her in my bed crying with the covers pulled up over her head. I apologized and we began to talk. I asked her why she was so clingy... why she was following me around. Her response about broke my heart. In that moment, I caught a glimpse of her world. She said, "If something happens to you then I want to die too. I don't want anything to happen to you... I don't want to be alone." Her fears were so intense. I realized that, although she was a child - she knew that I was her strongest advocate and supporter. She couldn't bare to consider what her life would be like without that support... she could sense the emotional negativity of others impacted by the situation and realized that if I weren't arorund, she would - once again - find herself completely isolated. I knew that no matter how difficult this challenge was for me, nothing could compare to what she was experiencing. I reassured her that her Heavenly Father loved her very much and that he knew we needed each other. I told her that he would take care of us and everything would be okay. I felt ashamed for questioning what I knew to be true about my child.

I was blessed with the spiritual reassurance that we were doing the right thing a few days later. The day had come to take Cammie shopping for her new wardrobe. Emotionally, I had been dreading this day for weeks... grieving the loss of my son. Cammie put on one of her favorite outfits, I fixed her hair in a cute little girl's style, and we headed out shopping. It was her "coming out" day - the first time that she had gone out in public as a girl. As the day progressed, I noticed Cammie's personality blossom. No longer plagued with how little boys are socially expected to act and behave, Cammie was finally free to be herself. Her new found independence was extremely liberating. she was bubbly, funny, and outgoing. There wasn't a moment when I looked at her that I didn't find a bright smile on her face. She seemed so radiant, she practically glowed. By the end of the day, I was having more fun than I had ever experienced with her. We were laughing and joking. People were telling me how cute she was, and with every compliment her confidence soared. It was a huge shift from the depressed, anxious, despondent child that I had been worrying about for years.

That night, after we returned home, I went in my room closed the door and cried. This had become a ritual in the weeks leading up to Cammie's transition. I would do my best to encourage and reassure her that everything would be okay... that we could handle anything together... that she wasn't alone. Once she felt comforted and at peace - I would go in my room, close the door, and break down in tears... overcome with my own worries and fears. For the first time, this routine brought tears of joy. Cammie was truly happy. I knew it was going to be tough and there would be many hurdles to overcome, but somehow I knew that she would be okay... as long as she could be true to herself. It was obvious that she had finally "found her wings" and I was committed to do everything I could to help her "get off the ground."

Prelude to a Metamorphasis...

Cameron's cross-gender preferences began from the moment she was old enough to express gender-specific interests. I've always been a bit of a non-conformist when it comes to my view of the world, so the decision to embrace Cammie's gender variant interests was easy, even though - at times - the follow-through has been heart-wrenching. I wanted to raise a child with a strong sense of SELF... not a strong sense of "who the hell am I supposed to be?" Cameron transitioned this summer (at her own choosing) because we moved to a new community. I would have supported Cameron through an earlier transition (we had discussed it), but Cameron is very bright and self-preserving... she has always been "in tune" with the expectations of a rigid sexually binary society. My perspective has always been that nobody knows what it's like to be Cammie, except her, so I have afforded her some control over her situation. I think the most valuable aspect of parenting isn't found in what we teach our children... but rather lies in what we allow our children to teach us.

Facing Cameron's transition, was an extremely difficult process for me and it stirred up some unexpected emotions. I found myself grieving as I anticipated the loss of my son - which brought with it the reality that I would never have a daughter-in-law and the greater loss, no biological grandchildren. In prior discussions, Cameron was repulsed by the prospect of dating or marrying a woman. Consistent with a female gender identity, Cameron was interested in boys. Through this process, I realized that there is a huge difference between considering a possibility and embracing a reality. Truly acknowledging and accepting Cammie's gender identity meant embracing the reality that biological children would never be a possibility for her. This was not only difficult for me, but has been quite upsetting for Cammie. She continues to hold onto the notion that she has ovaries. She sees herself carrying and mothering children, not "fathering" children. I have explained that she has a "daddy's" body and can have babies with a woman, but that she will never be able to get pregnant or give birth to her own children. For her, this is the most emotionally devastating aspect of being transgender. She has a maternal instinct, and inasmuch sees herself "mothering" children. She continues to scavenge for possibilities and frequently asks questions, "Mom... how do they know I don't have eggs when nobody has ever checked. Couldn't I have girl parts inside?" When I share the bleak reality of her situation, her eyes well up with tears and the emotional devastation is palpable. Cameron has adamantly asserted that having children with a woman is not an option. I can't imagine what it must be like for her... It's the equivalent of telling someone who's sexual orientation is straight that they would have to enter into a homosexual relationship to have a family.

Then there were other areas that intensified my grief. She could dress like a girl, but no matter how convicted she felt about her gender identity... it was obvious that she would experience puberty as a male. She had already approached me, distraught because she had begun to experience erections. The last thing that any girl wants is a penis... let alone, one that frequently and unexpectedly announces it's presence. She has been horrified by these experiences and had asked if there was anything that I could do to "make it stop". She has an older brother who is experiencing puberty, and watching him go through puberty panics her... it's a daily reminder that her body is going to "deform" in ways that she cannot bear to consider. She frequently experiences bouts of anxiety over impending voice changes, facial hair, and other aspects of masculinization. I knew that if I didn't educate myself and advocate for her best interests, her depression and anxiety would intensify. In my heart, I knew that she would become a statistic. She would either become a victim of her own self-loathing or a victim of a hate crime. The horrific thoughts associated with the dangers presented by the reality of her circumstance stabbed at my mind... She's going to be perceived as a freak by society... how devastating for her - to be so misunderstood - to be the person on the sidewalk that women, out for a walk with their children, cross the street to avoid. She's going to be perceived as a sexual deviant, a burly man in a skirt with make-up plastered over the top of a five o'clock shadow... the perfect target for ignorance and hate. I felt my own depression mount. I didn't want to get out of bed... face my job... my family... the world.

I knew that I needed to fight the depression that was mounting in my soul. I continued to pray about the situation and felt that the only way that I would feel better is to fight for my child's happiness... to find the answers. "There's got to be a better way," I thought, "There has to be a solution". I began to research treatment options for transgender children. It wasn't easy in the beginning but one door led to another door, which led to another. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by a wealth of information and resources. I learned that the nationally recommended plan of care for transgender children (endorsed by endocrine experts world-wide) was pubertal suppression. I learned that Cameron could take hormone blockers which would prevent the masuclinization of her body and give her time to mature emotionally so that she could make the decisions that were right for her. I felt comforted and at peace. I have never felt the Lord's presence in my life more profoundly than I did during this difficult time. I knew that - although our challenges seemed fierce - we were not alone. The Lord was my co-pilot and we were navigating our way through the blessings of adversity.

The next step... and probably the most dreaded, was telling family and friends. How do you share this information with the people that are the closest to you? How do you tell everyone that knows your child that your son is really your daughter? I couldn't bear to make one-on-one phone calls, to try to convey ten years of experience in a telephone conversation with each and every soul that had a significant relationship with our family. Emotionally, I was suffering and the thought of repeatedly sharing our experience, trying to justify our decisions to everyone around us, or convince people individually that our course of action was right would require more strength than I had in my arsenal. What if I forget important details? I felt compelled to construct a blog so that I could take my time and tell our story the way that it needed to be told. I made the decision to send an e-mail to friends and family, invite them to the blog, ask for their support and understanding, and provide them with additional resources. I decided that if they loved us, they would make efforts to educate themselves. If it was important to them to understand, they could pray for insight. I wasn't going to "spoon feed" everyone around me. I was willing to "do the shopping, prepare the meal, and even place the plate in front of them... but I wasn't going to feed anyone." I was exhausted and needed to conserve my strength so that I could focus my energy on the needs and well-being of my husband and children.

The letter...

Wow...
There is so much to tell all of you, and so much to catch you up on. We are facing some big steps with Cameron. I started a blog and would like to invite you to visit us there : http://cameronsong.blogspot.com If this is the first time that you are hearing about Cameron's challenges, you might benefit from a visit to the blog before continuing to read this letter.

I started the blog so that I could tell our story and help educate our close family and friends about Cameron's history and our direction with her treatment. I am including some articles that will help you to understand our focus with all of this (you will find them attached). I have learned so much over the course of the past couple of months that Cameron has been in therapy. As I may have mentioned to some of you, there are no gender specialists in Birmingham so I have had to go to Atlanta to find anybody qualified to handle Cameron's special needs. It has been a challenge - overcoming one hurdle after another - and a challenge that I know many of you can relate to on some level, so I feel especially comfortable sharing the details of our journey with you.

I've had to jump through several "fiery hoops" to get financial coverage for her treatment in Atlanta since my insurance provider doesn't cover out-of-state therapy. The support and understanding that we have gained through our decision to face this - as opposed to forcing her to be gender obedient, deny her natural instincts, or hide from who she is - has opened my eyes to so many things that should have been obvious all along. We are moving forward with confidence and making some great strides. Please take some time to read the articles that I am forwarding. They will go a long way in catching you up to speed. Also, there is a fantastic book out right now that I am reading called ..."Transgender Child - a handbook for professionals and families". It clears up a lot of misconceptions about trans-gendered children. For too long, transgender has been a dirty word.... followed by a leap to the conclusion that these individuals are mentally "twisted" or sexually deviant. Research (see the study attached) has gone a long way in proving that gender identity is - in fact - biological. There is one very compelling study that proves that transgendered individuals have the identical biological gender identity markers of the gender that they identify with. Interestingly, homosexuals did not show the same variation... proving that gender identity and sexual orientation are distinctly different topics. The only congruency is that both topics are related to sexuality. On that note, heterosexuality is also a topic based on sexuality but societal norms have clearly drawn a distinction between heterosexuals and homosexuals. I am learning how to love and accept my "daughter" for who "she" is and realize that gender identity goes far beyond a strict sexually binary society and our physiological characteristics. Gender identity is biological, but the development of that identity - in rare cases - is inconsistent with physical development.

Anyway, where am I going with all of this rambling??? After a great deal of time spent on my knees in prayer, doing independent research, consulting with experts on this topic, and - most importantly - listening to my child... our family has made a very difficult and fundamental decision. Per Cameron's request, through confirmation received by the power of prayer, and the advice of her counselors - we have chosen to allow her to live her life consistent with her psychological gender identity. This summer Cameron will make an "environmental" transition to living her life as the little girl that she was meant to be, and has always known that she is. It's a huge step for us... a step that has taken ten years to climb. She will eventually begin hormone blocking therapy to prevent the masculinization of her body, (something that has horrified her for years). When she is emotionally mature and can appropriately comprehend the magnitude of her choices, she will have the option to begin feminizing hormone therapy and pursue SRS.

I know that this is a tough pill to swallow. I understand because it's something that I have been struggling with and praying about for years. I feel very blessed to have received divine guidance through answer to prayer. These answers have manifest through the peace and comfort of the spirit. Children born with debilitating physical abnormalities are not expected to "live with them", simply because "God created them that way". If there is one thing that I know to be true... that I have a profound testimony of - above all things - it's the fact that God loves his children and would never expect them to suffer. In fact, it is evident that it causes him great pain. In the midst of the Crucifixion , the Lord could not bare to watch his son suffer... Matthew 27:46 And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? The torment and persecution of his son was more than he could endure. Likewise, this suffering is more than these children and those who love them can endure, as illustrated by a recent research study that demonstrates - 36% of transgendered children attempt suicide by the time they are twenty years old. Recently, two ten year old boys - in different parts of the country - hung themselves in their basements because of the incessant ridicule, rejection, and isolation of a society that cannot understand why they expressed gender variant behavior. My daughter will not be a statistic. I have prayed about this and received an answer that I cannot deny, just as I cannot deny that Christ is my Savior... the answer was simple, but profound... "Love this child... even as I have loved you." The peace and guidance that I have been blessed with throughout this journey has been a gift from the Lord. I love my Father in Heaven and I am thankful for the strength that he has given Cameron... to be patient with me... to teach me... to accept me despite all of my short-comings... and most importantly - to be patient with me as I have come to understand her.

Transgendered conditions are mother nature's genetic variations of sexual identity... much as cleft palate, Downs Syndrome, Autism, Ash burger's Syndrome, etc are the result of abnormal development. This is not - in itself - a psychological condition... but the strict binary sexual society that we live and expect ALL people to conform to does extreme psychological damage to these children and ultimately results in secondary psychological conditions that manifest through anxiety, depression, chronic low self-esteem, and suicidal ideations. I hope that our family will have your support throughout our journey... as we continue to get to know and love our daughter... a little girl who has hid in the shadows of a society and family that has failed to understand her for far too long.

With all of our love,

Christina, Cameron, & the boyz

I learned very quickly that the people closest to the experience struggled the most. I expected the most support from those who loved us the most, and the harshest judgement from those who had the least involvement with our family. What I found was quite the contrary... those closest to us were the most resistant and those with the least at stake, offered the most support. I received an onslaught of e-mails, some were anonymous and some weren't, but the majority attacked my position, questioned my motives, and attempted to "save my soul" from damnation. I was extremely hurt as I came to realize that, with a situation like this, it's best not to have expectations. There is no way to gauge how someone will react. Especially, initially. I realized that those who loved us the most, were the most resistant and would need the most time. Dealing with personal attacks from those that you love requires a great deal of faith and patience. The most important thing that I would come to realize is that they were hurting too. In the meanwhile, I decided to pray for their understanding with the hope that they would make efforts to educate themselves. For the time being, however, my focus needed to be on our family and tending to the needs of all of our children, solidifying relationships, and promoting love and understanding within the walls of our home...

When we shared the news with our children, the two youngest boys were relatively unaffected... oblivious and anxious to squirm their way out of the family conference to go play. Our oldest child made a lighthearted comment that seemed to bring the situation into focus, "Whatever makes Cameron happy... besides, it's not really a surprise mom... I've always known he was a girl." I prompted more thought, asking him how he would feel and react if his friends began to tease him about Cammie's self-expression and gender identity. His response surprised me, "They aren't going to care... I don't know... I mean (then he looked at Cammie who was sitting beside him on the couch)... Cameron, would you want me to beat them up?" I had to smile at the Christlike love and compassion that Caleb demonstrated... at least for Cammie. He wasn't at all concerned about himself, his primary concern was for her well-being. Later on when I sat down alone with Caleb to address the topic in private he said, "To be honest, mom.... I'm feeling a little protective."

I've never been more proud of my children. In that moment I knew that as we faced the challenges that lie ahead, our family would learn some valuable things and grow in beautiful ways...

Transgender Children - Out of the Shaddows...

The Opposition and The Climb...

One of the most difficult aspects of embracing a transgender child is coping with ignorance and intolerance. Possibly the most heart-wrenching challenges of trying to advocate for my child's happiness have come from the personal attacks of others. I have chosen to share the various comments that I have screened from my blog in an effort to help other families, facing the same obstacles, to understand that part of having the courage to stand up for your child may require losing the love and support of those closest to you. To those of you facing this uphill battle... you are not alone in your heartache, struggle, and pain. To other families with transgender children, I offer this encouragement - by turning to the Lord, and through strengthening one another, we will find the courage to advocate for the happiness of our children.

I recently heard a song that touched my heart. Cammie was singing it while playing around the house. As I listened to her sing, I felt uplifted and inspired. Through faith, we can find the strength to "climb"...

"The Climb"

I can almost see it

That dream I'm dreaming

But there's a voice inside my head saying

"You'll never reach it"

Every step I'm taking

Every move I make feels

Lost with no direction

My faith is shaking

But I've got to keep trying

Got to keep my head held high

There's always going to be another mountain

I'm always going to want to make it move

Always going to be an uphill battle

Sometimes, I'm going to have to lose

It isn't about how fast I get there

It's not about what's waiting on the other side...

It's the climb.

The struggles I'm facing

The chances I'm taking

Sometimes might knock me down

But no, I'm not breaking

I may not know it

But these are the moments that

I'm going to remember most

Just got to keep going

And I've got to be strong

Just keep pushing on

It's not about how fast I get there

It's not about what's waiting on the other side...

It's the climb.

Keep on moving, keep climbing

keep the faith...

It's all about the climb.

The Opposition...

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "The Parable of the Box...":

Oh yes - "God" is giving you personal revelation and telling you that he purposely sent Cameron to earth in a male body when really he is a "she" just to make him become stronger and advance this noble cause. However, the revelation he gave to the prophet about gender and it being eternal and existing before the earth was created is just a bunch of bologna. I would be careful about where I assign the credit for these "inspiring" voices you keep hearing.

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Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "The Parable of the Box...":

How sad that instead of allowing Cameron to carry the box HE has been given, HE is having to face the challenges of destroying that box, and creating HIS own box. It is interesting, the way we can twist our lives to fit our own agenda.

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Anonymous has left a new comment on your post ""Mom... do you think Jesus loves me?"":

All I hear is ME, ME, ME, ME. I stand by my earlier comments. How do you sit there and say it has nothing to do with medical procedure. I read your information and you want to turn a handsome young man into a girl. That must mean Rx, injections, or surgery.That sounds medical to me.Leave the boy alone and he'll figure this stuff out on his own. Love him for who he is now. Not what YOU think he should be.

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Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Familiar words... Familiar experiences...":

This is a great way to justify what you are doing here. God does not make mistakes. Humans should not be changing gender that was established in the heavens before this child ever came to earth. Read the family proclamation. This is idiocy clothed in "tolerance" all the while accusing everyone else of being "judgemental". I am so sad about what you are doing to your son. The sex of an individual is determined in every piece of DNA in their body. When you are finished with your plan you will not have turned Cameron into a girl, you will have turned him into a mutilated male. How terribly sick!

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Jason has left a new comment on your post "Perspectives in Parenting...":

This whole thing just blows my mind. It takes me back to my mission when I visited with people that thought the lord was telling them things he really wasn't. you say you have a strong testimony and the lord is telling you this is right but if your TRULY TRULY had a testimony (and if you honestly stop and think about what i'm about to say without taking immediate offence you'll know i'm right) the lord is the only "perfect" person to ever live on the this earth. and by saying that he has told you that cameron is really supposed to be a girl is just like saying the lord made a mistake by making him a boy....the lord doesn't make mistakes, if he did then everything every religion believes would be false and especially the LDS religion that you profess to have such a strong testimony in. and if thats true cameron is supposed to be a boy and there is NO other alternative....either that or the lord isn't perfect and he lied to us all. Think about it....honestly, with an open heart and mind, and remember the devil can answer your prayers too.

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Anonymous has left a new comment on your post ""Mom... do you think Jesus loves me?"":

Oh... pllllllease!!!

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Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "There is Perfection in Imperfection...":

WOW! It sounds to me like you're looking in every possible book written BY MAN to justify the decisions that you have made as a parent. I'm not claiming that I'm a perfect parent because we all know that there is no such thing, but if I had made decision along the course of my child's life which led my child to the juncture that Cameron is at now then I too would look anywhere I could to feel better about myself. Kristina, you cannot allow yourself to make a decision like this at such an early stage of your SONS life. By doing so you are only harming him. You are leading him down a path that will only lead to heart break and sorrow for HIM. The world is not a forgiving place and the people that HE comes into contact with will tease him relentlessly. If you think it is bad now, wait until that happens. You say that you met with your Bishop but it sounds to me that you didn't listen. We Believe that man must be called of God by prophecy and by the laying on of hands by those who are in authority to preach the gospel and administer in the ordinances therof. He was called, through divine revelation to be YOUR spiritual leader. He holds the necessary keys and is entitled to receive revelation to help guide you and Cameron through this time. Please go back and LISTEN. Leave your heart open. Believe it or not we all want whats best for you and Cameron. God knows whats best. He would never tell you to do this. I know that if you talk with your Bishop and Truly listen, your mind will be opened and you will know the best course to take. I know you think you already know which course that is, but I know that God would never lead his children down the path that you are taking. Our family will keep you both in our prayers.

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Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Reflections of the Heart...":

All of the "scientific" mumbo jumbo, twisting of scriptures, and rationalizing does not change the fact that Cameron is a boy. It is written on every ounce of DNA in his body and all of the cutsie pictures in the world will not change that. I look at his picture and he looks just like what he is - a boy dressed in girls clothes with long hair in an attempt to deny what he really is. If later in life he takes the steps to make his body look more like a woman he will still be male. He will just then be a mutilated male.

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Dear Christina,

I am a pretty quiet person and I hate getting in the middle of heated discussions, but when an issue is brought to my attention that affects a child this much I have to say something. Cameron is a boy. Treat him like he is the smartest boy in school, he'll be the smartest boy in school. Treat him like he is an idiot, he'll be an idiot. Treat him like a boy, he'll be a boy. Treat him like he is gay, he'll be gay. You want him gay, let him be gay. Don't take such drastic steps at 10. Let him do it when he is ready to leave for college. He'll be more mature and think through this better. He'll understand the consequences.No matter how you dress him, treat him, talk to him he will always be a BOY! Like Obama said, "Put lipstick on a pig and its still a pig." I don't like Obama, but he speaks the truth in this instance.There are much better ways to get a girl. The Chinese have many to spare, they are killing the extras. Adoption would be a far better use of money and you would be saving a life of a child. You would be a hero to that child. Isn't that what you want, isn't that why you gave a kidney? Be a hero and save a child from another country.

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One of my favorite quotes...

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil...

is for good people to do nothing."

Several years ago, during a difficult time in my life, I was faced with an uphill battle. I gained great strength from a letter that my dad wrote to me on my birthday. He expressed his love for me, then told me that he was proud of me and the decisions that I had made in my life. In the letter he shared a poem that was found written on the wall in Mother Teresa's home for children in Calcutta. This poem has been a great source of strength to me through some of my most profound challenges. It continues to be a source of inspiration and strength in my life today...

Do it Anyway...

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered...
Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives...
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful,
you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies...
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you...
Be honest and sincere anyway.

What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight...
Create anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous...
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, will often be forgotten...
Do good anyway.

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough...
Give your best anyway.

In the final analysis, it is between you and God...
It was never between you and them anyway.

The Beauty of Imperfection...

I recently received a blog post from someone who expressed his perspective on my approach to meeting Cammie's special needs. I have been approached by a few individuals with a similar perspective, so I felt compelled to post some information that would help clarify her condition, it's origins, and the biological components of variant gender development. I hope that by providing some basic information, I can open the door to understanding and make the world a better place for my child.

The blog post:

"This whole thing just blows my mind. It takes me back to my mission when I visited with people that thought the lord was telling them things he really wasn't. you say you have a strong testimony and the lord is telling you this is right but if your TRULY TRULY had a testimony (and if you honestly stop and think about what i'm about to say without taking immediate offence you'll know i'm right) the lord is the only "perfect" person to ever live on the this earth. and by saying that he has told you that cameron is really supposed to be a girl is just like saying the lord made a mistake by making him a boy....the lord doesn't make mistakes, if he did then everything every religion believes would be false and especially the LDS religion that you profess to have such a strong testimony in. and if thats true cameron is supposed to be a boy and there is NO other alternative....either that or the lord isn't perfect and he lied to us all. Think about it....honestly, with an open heart and mind, and remember the devil can answer your prayers too."

From the moment we are born, we are defined - not by WHO we are - but rather by what gender role we fit into. From the beginning of our lives the clothes we wear, the games we play, which restrooms we use, the toys we purchase for our children, and the friends that we choose to associate with are all major aspects of our lives that are influenced and defined by strict gender stereotypes.

When I was pregnant people often asked me, "Do you want a boy or a girl"... to which I would respond, "I want a healthy baby." Most expectant parents realize all of the things that can go wrong during pregnancy. Many families are faced with extreme challenges when it comes to the developmental health of their newborn children. Some infants are born with muscular dystrophy, down syndrome, cerebral palsy, autism, spinal bifida, cystic fibrosis, congenital heart defects, cleft lip/cleft palate, diabetes, gastro-intestinal disorders, and the list goes on. Many of these conditions manifest immediately after birth and some surface later in life through the delay of developmental milestones. When families are faced with the aforementioned challenges, nobody approaches them with the same level of insensitivity or discourages them from seeking understanding or treatment for the affected child by callously making the assertion that, "The Lord doesn't make mistakes, if he did then everything every religion believes would be false."

Why is it that people think they have the authority to make a determination about which medical treatments are an implication of God's imperfection and which medical treatments are simply neccessitated by unfortunate developmental circumstances, worthy of medical intervention??? How is it that children can come into the world with all kinds of developmental delays, deformities, and maladies - but if those physiological issues challenge rigid gender norms, suddenly there is a dramatic shift from support and understanding to pious judgement and an assertion that "God doesn't make mistakes... either that or the Lord isn't perfect and he lied to us all."

Until I made the effort to listen to Cammie, understand her and the condition that has challenged her life, I - too - was ignorant. Through prayer, I have been blessed to come in contact with the people and resources that have led to an awareness of my child's gender variance and an understanding of her condition... Hopefully, this understanding will lead to a better life for her and other children like her. Please forgive me if I get a little technical while attempting to explain the physiological development of gender variance as I have come to understand it...

At conception, the genetic make-up of a child is complete - including the sex of the infant. Within about three days after conception, the fertilized egg, which is dividing rapidly into many cells, passes through the fallopian tube into the uterus where it attaches to the uterine wall. The placenta, which will nourish the baby, also begins to form...

4 weeks - At this point of development the structures that eventually form the face and neck are becoming evident. The heart and blood vessels continue to develop. And the lungs, stomach, liver, and gonads (testes or ovaries) start to develop...

6-8 weeks - The baby is now about the size of a grape - almost an inch in size. Eyelids and ears are forming and even the tip of the nose is visible. The arms and legs are well formed. The fingers and toes grow longer and more distinct. The gonads remain ovaries or differentiate into testicles based on hormones that are produced at this stage of pregnancy. The release of these hormones (one of which is testosterone) determines the internal development of reproductive organs. when testosterone is present, internal male reproductive structures develop. Without testosternone - the gonads become ovaries and the development of the uterus, fallopian tubes, and upper part of the vagina will progress. If there is a significant imbalance of these hormones during this delicate phase of fetal development, the infant may be born with ambiguous genetalia...

10-12 weeks - The fetus measures approximately two and a half inches and begins to move. The doctor may hear the fetal heartbeat with special instruments and the sex organs of the baby may become visible. The brain undergoes rapid development, producing 250,000 new neurons every minute. During this phase of neurological growth, it is believed that hormones (known as androgens) wash the brain in a process known as the "androgen bath". The androgen bath (coupled with genetics) determine the neurological blueprint of gender identity. Variations in these factors during this crucial period of neurological development can result in cross-gender cellular gender identity markers in the brain...

This cross-gender neurological development is demonstrated by the following image which compares the volume of the central subdivision of the bed nucleus of the stria terminalis (BSTc), an area in the brain that is essential to sexual behavior and is twice as large in men than in women. In this image, the BSTc markers of four individuals are compared. Block A - a heterosexual male, block B - a heterosexual female, block C - a homosexual male, and block D - a transgender male to female. The BSTc was not influenced by sex hormones in adulthood and was independent of sexual orientation. This study was the first to show a female brain structure in genetically male transgender individuals...

There is more to gender than meets the eye (literally). There are little girls born every day who grow up like other normal little girls - wearing pink and bouncing around in pigtails. They enter puberty and, although their breasts develop, they don't grow pubic hair and they don't menstruate. Their parents bring them to the doctor to find out why puberty is not progressing in a normal pattern and discover that they have no uterus, the vagina is abnormally short, and there is testicular tissue where the ovaries should be. When genetic tests are run, they reveal XY chromosomes. The little girl is chromosomally male but has always identified as female. The actress, Jamie Lee Curtis, was born with this rare developmental condition known as CAIS (complete androgen insensitivity syndrome).

Likewise, there are little boys born with XX male syndrome - a condition similar to CAIS in presentation. The affected child presents with a physiologically male body. These children are infertile and, although chromosomally female, they identify as male.

These are just a couple of gender based developmental conditions. There are numerous others... so many that it would exhaust this post to go into greater detail. It's interesting to me that there are people in the world, wasting their energy, trying to figure out where to "draw the lines" of acceptance. The aforementioned comment post is a classic demonstration of such judgement. Once these individuals have made a determination based on what they think is right or wrong, they are unwilling to educate themselves or consider new possibilities. It's much easier to ignore the truth than to pick up an eraser, or re-draw the line... Perhaps, that's because there's an element of guilt that accompanies the realization that it's not our place to draw lines.

The human body is created by two imperfect human beings... the spirit, however, is perfect. This is why I have chosen to nurture Cammie's spirit, to trust her perception, and to love her unconditionally. I believe that the most important step toward achieving perfection in an imperfect world is learning how to accept and look beyond our differences... until ~ at last ~ we are able to recognize the beauty and perfection that lies beyond imperfection...

Reflections of the Heart...

A pocketful of pictures and

a handful of thoughts...

Patience... Patience... Patience

Several months ago, Cameron wanted to talk. She sat with me at the side of my bed and asked, "Mom, Jesus can do anything - right?" I thought for a moment. I could see where the conversation was headed, but answered with honesty, "Yes, Cameron- he can." She continued, "Why can't he fix my body? I have prayed and prayed that he would fix it... but he hasn't."

I explained to Cameron that, although Christ was the son of God and was capable of many miracles, the challenges in our lives serve a valuable purpose. I reminded her that, although he had the ability to save himself from the hands of his executioners and tormentors, he didn't... rather he prayed for their salvation, asking God to forgive them as illustrated in Luke 24:33-35...

33. And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left.
34. Then said Jesus, Father forgive them; for they know not what they do.
35. And the people stood beholding . And the rulers also with them derided him, saying, He saved others; let him save himself, if he be Christ, the chosen of God.

I believe that life's challenges necessitate spiritual growth. The effects of those challenges may result in personal development, but many times the blessings from those "obstacles" contribute to the growth of others. Unfortunately, the answers aren't always forthcoming and many times the meaning behind the experience remains elusive, until - in retrospect - it is clarified. I am an extremely impatient person and inasmuch, can relate to Cameron's frustration. Sometimes, it's not easy to trust the Lord and patiently wait for the answers...

In fact, I hate to wait! I have no patience. I've always been this way. As a child, I would get so excited about Christmas that I'd scavenge the house for stowed shopping bags and on the rare occasion when I didn't find anything, I'd wait for the wrapped merchandise to appear under the tree... Then, like a predator on the hunt, I'd wait for an opportunity to present itself, open them up, peek, re wrap them, and strategically place them back under the tree. It's not surprising that I was also the child in the backseat of the car on family road trips repeatedly asking the questions that all parents love to hear... "how many more miles?"... and ... "How much longer?"

Not much has changed in my life. Although my circumstances are different, my behavior remains consistent. I routinely find myself huffing and puffing, fussing and cussing while waiting on a traffic light... or throwing a tantrum in the car during a rush hour commute home. I'm not proud of the fact that I have - on occasion - abandoned an overloaded shopping cart full of merchandise when encountering tedious lines at the checkout counter, and I'd rather give birth than be placed on hold... So, given my track record, it's not surprising that the Lord would try to teach me patience.

Every challenge in my life seems to be devoted to helping me develop this important quality which has been compounded by the fact that I have spent many years in what I like to refer to as "spiritual special ed", for apparent learning disabilities. My take on the matter has always been that if the Lord wanted me to have patience, he should've created me with it in the first place and saved us both the hassle... A perspective that illustrates my impatience with learning patience.

Whatever the reason, the Lord continues to try to teach me this principle... and I continue to have "developmental delays" in learning it. When it comes to life's challenges, I find myself frequently whining, "How much longer?" And, as always, the Lord's response remains constant... "As long as it takes to get there".

When it comes to major challenges in parenting, I always to turn to my faith for guidance. Often the answers don't come as quickly or as readily as I'd like them to, and I find it nearly impossible to be patient. At these times, I typically start "scavenging for blessings" while trying to dictate the outcome and - in doing so - fail to recognize them altogether.

I have come to realize that faith is a prerequisite to patience and trust is a prerequisite to faith. Trusting the Lord has always been my greatest challenge. I had a dream several years ago that demonstrated this "power struggle". I was at a public pool with my children, watching them play. My babysitter had come along to help me keep an eye on them and was playing with Colton in the water. I was scanning their activities, watching them enjoy the day and when I looked over to where Cole had been, I couldn't see him and I couldn't find the babysitter. I rushed to the side of the pool and looked down into the water and there he was, lying lifeless at the bottom.

I dove in to get him but the pool was unusually deep. I could only get so far before the weight of the water forced me back. I could see him drifting on the bottom and knew that it might already be too late. Panic seized my heart as I realized that my best efforts were futile. I couldn't reach him. I returned to the surface, the sky had clouded over and most of the swimmers were gone. I begged for someone to help.

Suddenly, a man appeared from the darkness. I couldn't see his face but his countenance was familiar. Somehow, I knew that he would be able to reach Colton. He was able to overcome the deep and pull him to the surface.

I seized Colton from his arms and frantically began to administer CPR. I was screaming inside, "God, please don't take him away from me. Please! I can't get through life without him!" I administered a rescue breath and he coughed out a lot of water but never opened his eyes. The sky cleared and I felt the warmth of the sun. I turned to find the man that had helped but he had gone. Then I awoke, not knowing the outcome.

In the days that followed, I began to recognize the spiritual message of my dream. I realized that my efforts, no matter how inadequate they may have appeared to those “standing at the surface”, were appreciated by one much greater… the man who appeared from the darkness with the miraculous ability to help me. I had been so focused on controlling the outcome that I took Cole from his arms before his work was done.

I have been thinking a lot lately about my relationship with Christ, his life, and his ministry. Through this ten year trial with Cameron, I have watched a beautiful spirit wither away in sadness and depression. I have heard her desperate pleas for relief and have found myself reliving that dream... once again pleading... "God, please don't take him away from me. Please! I can't get through life without him." I am learning to trust the Lord. I am trying to resist the urge to "seize Cameron from his arms". I am taking one step at a time... the step that has been prepared, then - through faith - I have resigned myself to an unknown "destination".

We can all find comfort in the fact that there is one who knows each of us better than we know ourselves. He understands what it's like to be criticized and judged and he conquered death so that we can have eternal life. I have come to realize that during my darkest moments, when those “at the surface” fail to understand and are unwilling to help, He is there… but I’ve got to trust him and patiently wait for the answers.

I have shared my testimony with Cameron and tried to teach her spiritual truths. I am saddened by the fact that so many misunderstood, beloved children of God have bought into the idea that being true to themselves will result in the spiritual abandonment of a loving Father in Heaven. Unfortunately, these people share Cameron's feelings of frustration and hopelessness - losing faith in a God that sincerely loves, supports, and understands them.

There is one thing that I know for certain... Cammie didn't come to my home by chance. The Lord assigned Cameron to my care and has blessed me with the experiences that have guided my path. He has helped me to understand his will for her life. I have been blessed to see my child. I am her mother... God trusts me... and no mortal being, standing on the outside of this experience, can possibly have a greater understanding, know my child better, or be more equipped to handle this challenge. From the outside - looking in, It's easy to jump to conclusions about what is right and wrong about someones life, particularly when you don't have to live with the consequences. I have walked everyday with my child, turned to the Lord directly for guidance, and been blessed with the answers that have paved the way to nurturing her spirit.

I know that my Heavenly Father loves me, that Christ is my Savior and Redeemer. I have studied his gospel, his words, his parables, and his teachings. I have a testimony of his love for me and my child. I am at peace in my heart because I have received guidance through each step of our journey. I know that when it seems that nobody else is there... he is.

I don't believe that I know everything with regard to this challenge in my life - rather I am willing to accept that I know NOTHING, humble myself in prayer, turn to faith, and try to be patient as I learn to trust the Lord's guidance. He has blessed my life - and I will not forsake that truth for the opinions of those who think I have fallen so far from grace that I am not entitled to receive it.

I will continue to teach Cameron that she does not have to choose between her innate spiritual being and the love of her Heavenly Father. I will continue to teach her that she is divine. By paving the way for Cameron to love and accept herself, I hope to teach her to recognize the sanctity of the spirit.

Together, she and I will continue to walk hand in hand, one step at a time - as we patiently wait for answers.

Revelations 3:20 Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him.

Perspectives in Parenting...

Making the decision to support Cameron has introduced some unexpected emotions. I have literally grieved over the loss of my son. I have crumbled into tears over every little incident and spent hours consumed by sadness. There have been days when I didn't want to get out of bed, days went I didn't want to face anybody...face family, even friends... or face the world. I have been emotionally and spiritually exhausted... and overwhelmed by trying to explain ten years worth of experience in ten minutes, through a blog archive, or e-mail - just to have people look my direction with raised eyebrows, doubts, or reservations... as if I have lost my mind. It's been difficult to witness Caleb's sadness as his friends - one by one - have quit coming around... dissolving their friendship due to a lack of understanding. My own family has walked away, turning their back on me. I haven't received a single telephone call from any of my siblings or extended family members... but I have been told of their disapproval. All of this has culminated in a great deal of distress as I struggle to "keep it together", manage my own emotions, support the children, teach Christlike principles in our home, and maintain my sanity.

Through it all, the Lord has continued to bless my life with promptings of guidance and spiritual peace. I feel like I am walking through the "refiner's fire" and he is guiding each and every footstep. One of the most sacred, spiritual experiences came during a lonely moment of grief. The answers were provided through a simple chat session with a close friend.

I met Heather ten years ago while attending college in Germany shortly after Cameron was born. She and I became close friends and we were there for one another through some difficult times. We lost touch over the years and recently reconnected online. She had been following the blog but was completely unaware of what I was going through "behind the scenes"... regarding my feelings of loss and grief. I had been praying for peace and comfort when Heather's message popped up and we began to chat. Through the simple thoughts shared by a close friend, the spirit spoke to my heart and I was blessed with the peace and comfort that I desperately needed during an extremely difficult time. I wanted to share this spiritual experience, so I have copied and pasted our chat session.into the blog..

09:19Heather

hi how are u

09:19Christina

Okay... been discouraged lately

09:20Heather

i'm sorry :(

i read the blog and have been praying for your family

09:20Christina

It's been so hard... it'll get better.

09:21Heather

it's so awesome that you support cam

09:21Christina

I love my child... I just want to see her happy

09:21Heather

that's what is important, you are a special person and so is your child

09:23Christina

We need to get together soon. I'll add you to the blog. I had to take it down because my family was posting "hate mail".

09:23Heather

no way...i can't believe they would do that don't let it get to you, u are doing what is best...

we do have to get together

09:24Christina

I really appreciate your friendship since I have lost the support of my family...

Oh well, live and learn.

09:24Heather

hey i'm here :)

u were there for me u know

i'll always be here for u

09:26Christina

We all have our "cross to bear" from time to time in life. Chad is a great guy... always was, and I'm so glad that your family has grown. Your family is beautiful.

09:27Heather

thank u, it looks like u have found a wonderful guy that loves ur kids

are u busy? cause if not i have to tell u about something

09:29Christina

Not at the moment...

09:30Heather

okay...ur family has been on my mind a lot lately......anyway i had this dream that jakob and i were climbing some rock and were way up high...

i was having issues climbing and wasn't watching him

when i looked over he was about to fall

i watched him fall all the way to the bottom....it seemed like forever.....i got to him as fast as i could and called 911

he was still alive, knew his name, but didn't know me

long story short...he wasn't the same

no memory.....he was different than i was use to

i told him i loved him and he just looked at me.....broke my heart...cause he always says he loves me

i thought i had lost him

and even tho he was alive....i thought he was gone

it really bothered me after i woke up

and for several days later

then i realized.....just because he wasn't how i wanted him...didn't mean that i lost him

i just had to be thankful for the new him and get to know him

09:35Christina

Thank you so much, Heather... you don't know what an answer that is to my prayers.

09:36Heather

that's when i thought of you....just because things aren't the way you thought they'd be doesn't mean that you don't have a wonderful chance to enjoy your child

09:36Christina

This has been the hardest thing in the world for me. I feel like I have lost my family over this...

Some of my friends...

And nearly all of my sanity...

But, I love my child, boy or girl - son or daughter - and I want her to be happy.

09:37Heather

i'm sorry that they don't understand....but god can help them :)

09:37Christina

If they will let him.

I didn't get to this point without God.

09:37Heather

of course u love her and she is very lucky

09:37Christina

God is who has inspired me to have the courage to see my child from the inside...out.

I am trying to trust him... trust that it will all be okay...

I am so thankful that the Lord uses the hearts of our friends to let us know when we are on the right track.

I love you so much... and I miss you.

09:41Heather

i do u too! i will always be thanful for having you as a friend

09:44Heather

so cheer up :) u know u are doing what's right...u are loving ur child..and for the rest..don't let them get u down. pray for understanding for them. ur family needs u and can sense when you let things bother u.

09:46Heather

u can't control how they feel, but u can have peace in knowing what is right for your family

09:47Heather

and u'll be a blessing for other families that are looking for answers

09:48Christina

Heather thank you so much. I'm going to save this chat and paste it into my blog.

I have been praying that the Lord would help me to know that I have been on the right track.

So often he answers our prayers through the love of others.

09:49Heather

i wish that i was better at expressing myself in typing - lol

09:50Christina

You are fine... you shared the message you were meant to get accross.

Thank you so much.

09:50Heather

don't thank me....ur' my friend

09:50Christina

I do love you.

09:50Heather

do u too...keep that chin up

09:50Christina

I gotta go minister to the bumps and bruises of the camper kiddos. I'll catch up with you later.

Watch for an invitation to the blog.

Hugs!

09:51Heather

k take care

bye-

I am so thankful for my Fahter in Heaven, for the promptings of his spirit, and for the peace that he gives at the moments when we need it the most. There is no way for Heather to have known what I was experiencing. I had not expressed my feelings of grief and loss in my blog... yet the Lord used her as a means to answer my prayers and deliver peace to my heart. Sometimes it's difficult to follow the promptings of the spirit. Sometimes following the Lord's will for our lives requires sacrifices that are difficult to understand.

I am learning to surrender to the eternal perspective of my Heavenly Father. Perhaps the perfect illustration of this principle comes from my own experience as a parent. I remember when my children were little but wanted to be "all grown up", the struggles that we had over their lack of understanding...

I had an experience a few years ago with one of my children that illustrates the way the Lord must feel from time to time when guiding our lives. This experience taught me a valuable lesson on parenthood. It was in October of 2003. My oldest son, Caleb, was in Kindergarten. He had been learning how to read and (evidently) write. In order to fully appreciate this "hate mail" (as I like to call it) you have to understand the situation that spurred it. Caleb is a kind-hearted and sensitive child. He never talks back, and is generally very obedient and mild mannered. However, on this particular day he was in “rare form”. His grandmother was about to pick him up and take he and his brothers to a football game. It was cold outside so I insisted that they wear long sleeved shirts. Caleb refused, and an argument ensued. Finally I said, "Enough! If you want to go to the game, then you'll wear a long sleeved shirt... otherwise, you'll stay home!"

He stormed off in a huff. When his grandmother showed up, he refused to go while his brothers made their way out the door. Minutes later, after she had gone, I saw him diligently working on something in the kitchen. I didn't think too much about it, assuming it was his homework. Finally, he got up from the table and ran through the living room, slinging the letter across the room as he scampered past me. It fluttered to the ground and an "unsuspecting mother" picked it up and read...

"From Caleb 2003. mom ext awt i ollee (love) miy dad and miy bruthrs and mom you or a jrc i dot chrrust mom inneemr won mr theng i dont gv you inneemr hugs"

Translation: "From Caleb 2003. Mom X'd out. I only love my dad and my brothers, and mom you are a jerk. I don't trust mom anymore. One more thing... I don't give you anymore hugs"

At first I wasn't sure how to feel about the letter, but shortly after reading it my heart swelled with love, then a wave of laughter caught me by surprise. I recognized the moral of the story as I reflected on my own childhood. I could remember all the times, growing up, that I “hated” my parents for making me brush my teeth, wear a coat, take a nap, and the list goes on and on. As funny as it seems… it was one of those rare moments when I was sure that I was a good mom.

I was so excited! I picked up the phone, called mom and dad, and said, "Its official! I'm a good parent - Caleb hates me!" After laughing with them about the situation, I went to Caleb's room and, once again, explained why I wanted him to wear long sleeves. I told him that I loved him and didn't want him to get cold. I said, "I'm sorry if that makes you mad". Then I got up to leave the room and on my way out I stopped and turned around, "Caleb, I am so proud of you... I didn't know that you could write so well! You are learning so much in school, what a smart boy I have." Shortly thereafter, Caleb made his way into the living room, threw his arms around my neck, and with crocodile sized tears in his eyes - said, "I'm sorry I wrote that letter mom. I was just mad... I love you." I told him to quit crying and explained that his feelings were normal. We laughed together as I offered reassurance by sharing some similar experiences from my own childhood. Later that night, I found the note torn-up in the trash. I retrieved it, taped it back together, and filed it away... that's why the copy looks so disheveled. He was six then.

That experience taught me that there are many times in the lives of my children when being a good parent would require me to be a “jrk”, occasionally betray their perspective of “chrrust”, and even lose a hug or two. I realized then that sometimes it takes a “bad mom” to be a good parent. It isn’t a popularity contest, but rather a training camp for future success, peace, & happiness.

When I reflect on that experience, I am reminded of another parent/child relationship… the spiritual relationship between the Lord and ourselves. As a concerned and loving father, he is there to identify the dangers in our lives, guide, and protect us. Because our perspective is limited to our mortal experience and temporal understanding, we are often unable to appreciate the blessings in our lives. I have come to realize that the love of the Lord often results in “unanswered prayers”. Our expectations come from temporal understanding but our blessings are based on eternal truths. It’s important to remember, when searching for the answers, that at times we may be required to “wear long sleeves”…

Although we may never fully understand, following the Lord's promptings and accepting the seeming "unanswered prayers" in life will result in spiritual safety and prosperity. Although I don't understand why we are facing this challenge in our family and I know the Lord cannot change "what is", I am very thankful for the "long sleeves" that He is teaching me to wear - and the protection that I know will be provided through faithful obedience to the promptings of the spirit.

The Road Less Traveled...

Road Less Traveled

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Than took the other as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way
I doubted if I should ever come back

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood
And I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference

Robert Frost

This has always been my favorite poem. Through the ups, downs, twists and turns of life... there will always be a mountain to climb, a path to tread, and choices to make along the way.

There have been many times in my life when I have stood at a fork in the road, carefully weighing my options, and contmeplating the best path. Many times my choices were wise and often times they weren't, but I'm thankful for the valuable principles taught by each.

Recently, I stood at a crossroad. Once again, two paths diverged in the woods before me but this time it was different...

As a parent, sometimes it's difficult to know which path to take. Being a custodian of God's will is a huge responsibility. Each step I take, I take for two. I have come to realize that I can't fear the road less traveled. These roads, when taken, change the world... one step at a time. I hope that by carefully selecting the path.... a path paved with faith, hope, prayer, compassion, and unconditional love... perhaps, "it will make all the difference."

Parenting from the Inside - Out

My approach to loving Cameron has created some unwelcome responses, hateful comments, and personal attacks on my character. My heart aches for other families who face this challenge with their children. the difficulty that it introduces, especially in regards to relationships - can be devastating at best. Despite it all, I maintain my position...

We've all seen children who are isolated or rejected by their peer group... it's part of growing up - after all, kids will be kids. Looking back, I was that child. There were countless days when I came home crying because of experiences that I had at school. My mother would get upset, jump to my defense, then occasionally call the parents of my tormentors in an effort to initiate an intervention. After the emotions had settled, she'd sit down with me. Then, in an effort to make things better, she'd try to help me figure out what I had done to cause the rejection. Over the years, we spent hours together dissecting situations, discussing what I needed to change about myself, and searching for the things that I could do differently... things that would make me more appealing to my peer group. I remember the frustration that I felt and the sadness that consumed me as I desperately searched for acceptance. My self-esteem was devastated as I struggled to find peace. If you can't love or accept yourself... if you start from the outside (with the opinions of others), peace will always be elusive.

My mother did her best to love me and protect me. She thought that by helping me to change... by molding me into a more "acceptable" child... she could prevent the heartache caused by rejection. She didn't realize that by taking an "outside-in" approach to parenting, she was reinforcing that rejection. Unfortunately, this is the approach that many parents take when it comes to their transgender children. I am thankful for my relationship with my mother... I realize that she loved me very much, and I love her... but I am most thankful for that time in my life because of what it taught me. Looking back now, I can see that there are no coincidences in life. This experience has paved the way to greater understanding for Cameron... I have learned the importance of parenting from the "inside-out".

Everything in me, from my personal childhood experience to my testimony of the purpose of life, has humbled me and guided my path. I have taught Cameron to love herself, accept herself, and be true to herself. I have taught her to embrace Christ with all of her faith. I have taught her that it matters little what others think..."Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you."

What could be more holy than our personal relationship with the Lord? I have taught Cameron that her relationship with our Heavenly Father is sacred... to never allow anyone to dictate what it has been, what it is, or what it will be... "give not that which is holy unto the dogs". I have taught her to seek her own answers in faith and prayer, "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh is shall be opened." If she will do these things, the Lord will give her strength. Her strength will come from within, "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father, which is in heaven."

There is only one judge and he does not consult the wisdom of men. Christ said, "Blessed, are ye when men shall revil you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you. Take no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."

By accepting my child and embracing her beautiful spirit, I put my faith in the Lord and pray that he will give her the courage to accept herself and the courage to face a world polluted with judgement. I pray that she will discover her divine gifts, strengths, abilities, and spiritual purpose. I pray that she will be humble and kind to those in need. I pray that she will be strengthened by God's grace through adversity. These are the desires of my heart... not to have a son or daughter... but to have a child - boy or girl - who faithfully trusts in the Lord... not the opinions of men. As the Lord's agent in her mortal experience, this is my "custodial responsibility"; this is what it means to parent from the inside... out.

Familiar words... Familiar experiences...

The agony of...

Nurturing the Spirit
a mother’s recount of raising a transgendered child…

This is the amazing story of a mother who's unconditional love for her child changed her outlook on life. The part of her story that has had the greatest impact on my life can be found in the final paragraph as she share's her growth and all that she has learned by allowing her child to be the "teacher". Thank God for this inspiration in my life, and the inspiration of other parents who have the spiritual strength to identify the most basic need in the lives of their children... the need for unconditional love, understanding, and acceptance.

I hope this link works, it didn't work the last time I tried to post it...

http://www.transkidspurplerainbow.org/pdf/nurtuting.pdf

With Love for Cameron...

Several years ago Cameron drew this picture. I grabbed the Camera to capture the moment. I was so excited... Cameron had drawn a picture of a woman's body. It was the first time that I had ever seen him act like a "normal boy". His apparent interest in the opposite sex made me feel relieved and hopeful that the "phase" might FINALLY be ending...

Looking back, it's quite evident that Cameron was trying to tell me something... It took me several years to "listen". Thank God for the precious, forgiving nature of children... thank God for my beautiful child.

Everything Possible

lyrics by Fred Small

We have cleared off the table,

the leftovers saved,

Washed the dishes and put them away

I have told you a story and tucked you in tight

At the end of your knockabout day

As the moon sets its sails to carry you to sleep

Over the midnight sea

I will sing you a song no one sang to me

May it keep you good company.

CHORUS:

You can be anybody you want to be,

You can love whomever you will

You can travel any country where your heart leads

And know I will love you still

You can live by yourself, you can gather friends around,

You can choose one special one

And the only measure of your words and your deeds

Will be the love you leave behind when you're done.

There are girls who grow up strong and bold

There are boys quiet and kind

Some race on ahead, some follow behind

Some go in their own way and time

Some women love women, some men love men

Some raise children, some never do

You can dream all the day never reaching the end

Of everything possible for you.

Don't be rattled by names, by taunts, by games

But seek out spirits true

If you give your friends the best part of yourself

They will give the same back to you.

"Mom... do you think Jesus loves me?"

"Mom, do you think Jesus loves me?"

My heart ached... Despite all of the uncertainty in our lives, there is one thing I know for certain - Christ loves my child. Yet, somehow, she wonders...

Cameron's question magnified my greatest concern - the rejection she is likely to experience through the traditional religious practices of a self-proclaimed Christian society that rejects gender variant people. This is illustrated by a recent letter from family back home...


Dear Christina,
I am a pretty quiet person and I hate getting in the middle of heated discussions, but when an issue is brought to my attention that affects a child this much I have to say something. Cameron is a boy. Treat him like he is the smartest boy in school, he'll be the smartest boy in school. Treat him like he is an idiot, he'll be an idiot. Treat him like a boy, he'll be a boy. Treat him like he is gay, he'll be gay. You want him gay, let him be gay. Don't take such drastic steps at 10. Let him do it when he is ready to leave for college. He'll be more mature and think through this better. He'll understand the consequences.No matter how you dress him, treat him, talk to him he will always be a BOY! LIke Obama said, "Put lipstick on a pig and its still a pig." I don't like Obama, but he speaks the truth in this instance.There are much better ways to get a girl. The Chinesse have many to spare, they are killing the extras. Adoption would be a far better use of money and you would be saving a life of a child. You would be a hero to that child. Isn't that what you want, isn't that why you gave a kidney? Be a hero and save a child from another country.


To profess to have the answers for someone else's life is dangerous. I have spent hours on my knees asking the Lord why I have been assigned this trial in my life. The answers have not come easy, but one thing I know for certain - the Lord has heard my prayers and he is guiding my path. Rather than claim to know the will of God for everyone's life, we should turn to the Lord for personal understanding and encourage others to do likewise. That is the purpose of this blog... "to encourage others to do likewise". During the Sermon on the Mount, the Savior taught...

"By their fruits ye shall know them. Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wondeful works? And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity."

As with intersex conditions, transgender individuals suffer developmental complications as a result of physiological abnormalities that occur during fetal development. These abnormalities manifest through variant cellular gender identity markers in the brain.

Because I have embraced what I know to be true about my child, I face the possibility of losing the support of my religious community... support that I need, especially at this time in my life. I have taught Cameron to turn to the guidance of the Savior...

"Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth: But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloke also. And whosoever shall compell thee to go a mile, go with him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away. ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. FOR IF YE LOVE THEM WHICH LOVE YOU, WHAT REWARD HAVE YE? AND IF YE SALUTE YOUR BRETHEREN ONLY. WHAT DO YE MORE THAN OTHERS? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect."

When faced with adversity, I turn to the Lord, to the scriptures, and to my faith for strength and invevitably I find peace. On numerous occasions, I have spoken the words, "Look with you're eyes... 'see' with your heart." This has become a fundamental moral principle in our home... I have taught my children that the eyes are the greatest deceptors of the soul. I have been challenged to practice this principle.

In the fifteenth chapter of Matthew, before visiting the coast of Tyre, Scribes and Pharisees from Jerusalem inquired of the Savior, "Why do thy disciples transgress the tradition of the elders? For they wash not their hands when they eat bread." Hand washing was a customary Jewish practice of the time. The Scribes and Pharisees were offended at the observation that the apostles did not practice this custom. Christ responded by teaching a profound principle...

"Why do ye also transgress the commandment of God by your tradition? Ye hypocrites, well did Esaias prophesy of you, saying, This people draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoureth me with their lips; but their heart is far from me. But in vain they do worship me, teaching for doctrines, the commandments of men."

Then, Christ gathers the multitude and begins to teach an extremely important moral principle.

He says, "Hear and understand; Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man; but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man."

When the Savior had finished, the apostles approached him with concern, "Knowest thou that the Pharisees were offended, after they heard this saying?" The savior responded, "Every plant, which my heavenly Father hath not planted, shall be rooted up. Let them alone: they be blind leaders of the blind. And if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch."

Then Peter asks the Lord for clarification saying, "Declare unto us this parable."

At this point, Christ responds by saying, "Are ye also yet without understanding? Do not ye yet understand, that whatsoever entereth in at the mouth goeth into the belly, and is cast out into the drought? But those things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart; and they defile the man. For out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, blasphemies: These are the things which defile a man: but to eat with unwashen hands defileth not a man."

When faced with obstacles in life, there is one thing that has always brought me peace... turning to the Lord for guidance. I have chosen not to follow the example of the Pharisees by blindly practicing traditions for the sake of tradition. Instead, I have chosen to listen to the whispering of my child's heart and the testimony that I have gained through the tender mercy of the Savior, and the guidance of the Holy Ghost as I have studied in search for truth. I have been blessed with the knowledge to clearly see and understand my child. "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened."

When I look at Cameron with my eyes... I see my son. When I look at Cameron with my heart, I see a beautiful daughter of God. Christ taught that the body is merely a "vehicle" for the spirit. Our "appearance" is insignificant in the eyes of the Savior. How many times have we heard, or recited the adage, "It's not what's on the outside that counts" - yet we seldom practice this principle in our lives. A letter from back home has guided me to the words of a loving Savior, "This people draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoureth me with their lips; but their heart is far from me." Our bodies are a temporary means to an eternal end. These "vehicles" demonstrate their temporary nature as they age, suffer disease and deformity, and are susceptible to illness.

The things of paramount importance in this life will accompany us to our eternal home... knowledge, experience, works, relationships, and - most importantly - our testimony of Christ. It matters little, what we "drive" through this mortal existence, what we look like, or what we wear - as taught by the Savior in the Sermon on the mount, "I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on." Our focus in life should be to cultivate, refine, and perfect the spirit. Now, let's revisit Cameron's question...

"Mom... do you think Jesus loves me?"

I embraced the opportunity to help her understand...

"Jesus performed miracles and taught eternal truths - even when it was unpopular. He was beaten, spat on, ridiculed, and rejected. Those who couldn't understand and refused to believe that he was the son of God- hammered nails through his wrists and feet, then crucified him.

You see, Cameron... nobody understands you more than the Savior. He knows what it's like to feel alone... to be misunderstood, tormented, and rejected. There is one thing that I know to be true... Jesus loves you very much."

Cameron sat for a moment and thought - then she said, "Mom... Jesus didn't lie about who he was, and he wouldn't want me to either."

Breaking Down Barriers

Matthew 15: 21 - 28

I met with my Bishop last night, not to seek his approval for my decision to support my daughter in her desire to live a normal life, but rather to advocate for her physical and spiritual well-being. I had always been taught that Christ's gospel and it's leaders are blessed with the power of discernment and the gift of revelation. I had received personal revelation on the matter, in the form of profound answers to prayer, and approached the meeting with a cautious optimism that maybe - perhaps - there was some small chance that the same would be revealed in a joint session with my religious counsellor. The night was long... the meeting drug on for about four and a half hours, well into the night. We invited the spirit of the Lord to join us. We began by kneeling together in prayer and ended on our knees in prayer... the in-between was spent engaged in a discussion about a variety of religious concepts that Cameron's case brought into focus. There were moments where we cried together, moments where we laughed together, and I'm sure it won't come as the slightest surprise to those of you who know me... there were plenty of moments when we argued different approaches to the same topic. I received an answer to prayer this morning as I pondered some of the thoughts shared by my Bishop. One part of our discussion weighed on my mind. At one point, he used a scripture reference to illustrate that even Christ, himself, refused healing to a gentile woman who - with great faith - sought the unconditional love of the Savior and a miracle for her daughter. The implication was clear... not all children of God will be accepted into the fold. This bothered me, in large part because I couldn't recall the scripture, and moreover because - at that moment - I was that mother, seeking the Savior's perfect love on behalf of my child. I tossed and turned over it for the majority of the night. First thing this morning I began to research the scripture. I went to the church website and found nothing so I typed "Christ refuses to heal woman" into the search engine on the computer. Immediately an article popped up by Rev. Dr. Bruce Larson entitled "Breaking Down Barriers"...

MAN BITES DOG! There’s an old saying in the newspaper business: When a dog bites a man, that’s not news – it happens all the time. But when a man bites a dog, that’s news! Today’s gospel reading gives us just that kind of news – man bites dog! Things turn topsy-turvy! Let’s look at the story to see how this happens. The setting is the district of Tyre and Sidon, a district on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, where Lebanon is today.

Tyre was an ancient Phoenician city, famous for centuries as an attractive port for ships from all over the Mediterranean. In the time of Christ, Tyre was a large, cosmopolitan city where a diverse array of peoples and cultures, religions and philosophies interacted. Tyre and Israel were bitter enemies. Many of the great Jewish prophets condemned it harshly, and with reason. Tyre participated in the slave trade and its merchants worked on the sabbath in order to make more money. So, by being in this area, Jesus went to a very difficult place – culturally dominated by gentiles, religiously diverse, and potentially hostile.

So, why would Jesus go there? Ministry among his own people was hard enough. Why go to an area full of your people’s enemies? Put simply, so he could rest. It was an ingenious plan, really. No self-respecting Jew would be caught dead in the region around Tyre. He was tired, dead tired, from the crowds and from the scribes and Pharisees who constantly hounded him. So Jesus went to an enemy area to get away for some muchneeded “r and r.”

As clever as his plan was, though, it didn’t work. No sooner had Jesus entered this region than a woman from there came out and started shouting at him about her deathly-ill daughter. Then she bows down before Jesus and begs him to heal her daughter. And what do we expect? “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, healer and lover of all” – of course he would heal the kid. That’s what Jesus was all about, right? Wrong. He told the woman to get lost: “Let the children be fed first,” he says, "for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

Jesus’ refusal comes like an allegory. “The children” who should be “fed first” are the Jews, to whom Jesus first ministers because they are his people and because, as he and his people believed, the Jews were God’s covenant people. Believing in the special status of the Jews, then, Jesus thinks it would be unfair to take his ministry and give it to the dogs – that is, to the gentiles. For Jews, the dog was a common and – despite all us dog-lovers here – a highly offensive metaphor for gentiles. So here, Jesus refuses to heal the woman’s daughter because he would be squandering his ministry on gentiles. The Jews have priority. So, instead of granting the woman’s request, Jesus insults her, calling her a dog.

From his human frame of reference, Jesus had every reason to refuse her. She was a woman, a second-class citizen in Jewish culture. Add to this, her child was also female. Then these females, the woman and her daughter, were gentiles – doubly second-class in Jewish eyes. And they lived in enemy territory – triply second-class. From the perspective of his time and culture, Jesus had every reason to ignore the woman’s request.

This being said, if you are still protesting that Jesus is way out of character here, you are absolutely right. In all the gospels, this is the only place where Jesus flatly refuses someone who comes to him with a request. The only place. But look what happens. This woman doesn’t just slink away. No, she takes Jesus on. And she wins! “Sir,” she replied, “even the dogs under the table eat their master’s crumbs.” This woman creatively uses Jesus’ own words to get what she needs for her daughter.

Just as Jesus’ initial response is unique in the gospels for its harshness, the response of the woman is the only place in all the gospels where Jesus is out-argued, "bested” in verbal repartee. The woman’s response puts Jesus on his heels. He gives in, and heals her daughter. This is a rare moment where we see Jesus in all his fallible humanity, a moment that most certainly would have been left out by a gospel writer who wanted only to build Jesus’ reputation as a divine savior.

So then, if the story makes Jesus look bad, why did Matthew include it? Here is the “man bites dog.” Matthew included it so that we could hear from the woman! The focus here is not on Jesus, but on the woman and what she teaches us through her unexpected response. She took all the supposedly “good” reasons Jesus could muster to refuse her and turned them on their head. In this unique gospel story, then, it’s not Jesus but the woman who plays the role of God. Imagining a woman playing the role of God can be disconcerting for us. But there’s more. Consider the woman’s challenge about who is acceptable to receive the blessing of God.

We like to believe that, as our motto says, we “welcome everyone who welcomes everyone.” This is a wonderful statement and reminder to be a welcoming community of faith. In new member orientation sessions, I always ask: “What attracted you to this church?” Many have remarked, “Somebody talked to me the first time I came.” Just think of it. A simple conversation is sometimes all it takes. May we continue to do this! But we are also fallible human beings, and so, even without intending to, we sometimes set boundaries about who is in and who is out. Our habitual practices as a congregation can function as boundary markers, serving to exclude as much as they include. We want to be welcoming, but our human tendency is to follow what’s comfortable for us, to relate only with those we know. So, to help counter this human tendency, during worship services, we pass the peace of Christ with those whom we know and with those whom we don’t. We pray for those whom we know, and for those whom we don’t. And we pray the Lord’s Prayer in a version that most reflects our heart even if it isn’t the same for all.

These and similar habitual practices are good, but we must not assume that they alone are enough. Just like habitual practices of Jesus – focusing on his own people, expecting little from women, and so on – were turned on their head by this Canaanite woman, this enemy speaking with the voice of God, so too must we look on a regular basis to our own habitual practices and ask ourselves what are we assuming? What are we doing – really doing? We need to ask ourselves these questions beyond our church, too. In our community, and in our city, and in our society as a whole, we need to ask ourselves what we are really doing. For example, what are we really doing when we spend billions to build barriers along the order with Mexico while bridges in this country are falling down? What is it that we are so afraid of?

While viewing the opening ceremony of the Olympics the other night –- weren’t they something? -- I was especially struck by one bit of symbolism. The Great Wall of China appeared in all its foreboding presence, a testimony to one nation’s attempt to keep enemies out, the symbol of our human tendency to exclude. And then, unexpectedly, the image of the Great Wall began, ever so slowly, to change. Bit by bit, it changed from stones and mortar to living things – to beautiful flowers! What a transformation! The greatest barrier ever built by human beings, built out of fear to keep people apart, changed before our eyes into an image of beauty and wonder.

In our own lives, to experience a similar transformation, to move beyond a fear that paralyzes, let us take as our model the faith of the Canaanite woman. Through her, we see a God who takes everything we believe about who is acceptable, and turns it on its head. Through her, we see a God who takes everything we believe about where God speaks to us, and turns it on its head. Through her, we see a God who takes everything we believe about our habits and customs, and turns them on their head.

So this is our challenge today. Think about the one person in your life whom you think most unlikely to be an agent of God’s grace, and look for God to speak to you through that person. Or think about that group of people, labeled by our society as misfits or outsiders or even enemies, people whom you think most unlikely to be agents of God’s grace, and look for God to speak to you through them. And how can we do this? We do this the only way we can – through faith. Through faith, we can open ourselves to God’s unexpected ways. Through faith, we can listen for God’s voice from unexpected people and learn from God through unexpected experiences. Through faith, we can respond to God in word and deed. And then – then, in “man bites dog” fashion – we will throw all we are and all we have to God, the creator, lover, and sustainer of us all. Amen.

I have no doubt that my bishop - an amazing man... a good man who, by his own admission, was unsure how to guide me with the challenges we are facing in our family at this time - was inspired to share this scripture with me. Although neither of us could foresee, or remotely comprehend, the answers the Lord would provide as I turned to faith in search of understanding. The spirit is a powerful blessing... and manifest that power as I received peace through this account in Matthew, of a day... long ago... in the city of Tyre.

This has been my greatest struggle... the division that once existed in my heart - between the mainstream, publicly accepted Christian traditions and the testimony I have received by reverently listening to - and learning from - my child. Commonly accepted Christian beliefs assert that Cameron cannot be true to herself and be free of condemnation from the Lord. As the agent assigned to her care during this temporal journey... the responsibility to guide her in truth and righteousness falls on my shoulders. The painstaking challenge to reconcile all of this in my heart has been the greatest spiritual, emotional, and psychological journey of my life... a journey to understanding.

Cameron doesn't fit into the "pink box" or the "blue box" that has been created, mandated, and maintained by men. The testimony that I have gained, through the power of the spirit, has helped me to understand that there is one "box" where she belongs... it's a box delicately crafted for all of us by a loving Father in Heaven. My greatest obstacle, the division that I have felt for so long, does not come from God. Much like the Canaanite woman, I refuse to accept that the Savior and Redeemer of the world would walk past me during my greatest challenge or dismiss my child in the midst of her darkest hour. So, I am left with a responsibility to understand what Christ was trying to teach, through his actions that day, long ago... on the coast at Tyre.

Christ was perfect... he taught through parables, through scripture, and - most importantly - through his actions. Are we to believe that the Savior and Redeemer of the world suffered a momentary lapse of perfection... that the love and tender mercy that he feels for the children of men suddenly evaded him? Did he want us to believe that he had a brief, fleeting moment of temporary insanity??? No... I testify to you that the Savior, in his perfection, knew that there was a profound lesson that needed to be taught... perhaps the Lord didn't travel to Tyre to rest... perhaps he went to Tyre to "set the stage" for this moral principle... to seek out the Canaanite woman. Through her faith, he teaches the principle of acceptance. Remember, Christ was perfect and didn't require the cleansing waters of baptism... yet he was baptised to set the example for all of us. Christ is the son of God, and inasmuch, is perfect... yet he "passed judgement" on the Canaanite woman. With a similar exemplary focus, the Savior illustrated the actions that we all should take, by demonstrating that God speaks to us through those whom we believe are most unlikely to receive his grace. It's our responsibility to follow the example of the Savior, to open our hearts, and to listen...

25. Then came she and worshipped him saying, "Lord, help me."
26. But he answered and said, "It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs."
27. And she said, "Truth, Lord, yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters' table."
28. Then Jesus answered and said unto her, "O woman, great is thy faith; be it unto thee even as thou wilt." And her daughter was made whole from that very hour.



This truly is our challenge, it falls on my shoulders... it falls on yours...

"Think about the one person in your life whom you think most unlikely to be an agent of God’s grace, and look for God to speak to you through that person. Or think about that group of people, labeled by our society as misfits or outsiders or even enemies, people whom you think most unlikely to be agents of God’s grace, and look for God to speak to you through them. And how can we do this? We do this the only way we can – through faith. Through faith, we can open ourselves to God’s unexpected ways. Through faith, we can listen for God’s voice from unexpected people and learn from God through unexpected experiences. Through faith, we can respond to God in word and deed. And then – then, in “man bites dog” fashion – we will throw all we are and all we have to God, the creator, lover, and sustainer of us all. Amen."

The Awakening

It was on a midsummer afternoon several years ago when I set out to run some errands. Cameron, who was seven years old at the time, insisted on coming along to spend a little "alone time with mom". With four children in our home, it was sometimes difficult to find the time for one-on-one moments. We had taken care of my task list, accomplished the things that needed to be done, and were on our way home when Cameron made it clear that he had added one more major task to the agenda...

He began to break down and cry. The tears quickly turned into uncontrollable sobs and, as any mom would, I began the natural inquiry, "What's wrong Cameron? Are you okay?" Still... there was no response and the sobs continued. I proceeded with my inquisition, "What's going on, honey?" Again... there was no response and the sobs became inconsolable. I proceeded to play the medical version of hot and cold... "Are you sick?" He shook his head as if to say "no". I continued, "Is your tummy hurting?" Again, he shook his head in denial. At that moment, my inquisition shifted to pleading, "Cameron... tell me what's wrong. You know, you can always talk to me and I'll always be here for you. What's going on?"...

There's something about the moments that profoundly change our lives... we tend to remember every detail... where we are, what we're doing, and - most importantly - what we feel. Every detail of the conversation that followed is etched in my mind... Like a moment frozen in time. The conversation that ensued became a chapter in my life, forever engraved in my heart. It paved a path to greater discovery that has led to a foundation of insight and profound understanding...

Cameron had always been unusually feminine. These seeming non-conformity's to "gender appropriate" interests and behaviors became blatantly obvious in our home - an environment "charged" with testosterone. I had four sons (or... so I believed at the time). Even the dog was a male. Life in our home was completely consumed by rough and tumble play compounded by incessant wrestling, shouting, climbing, competing and fighting. Our day to day life was consumed by super heroes, action figures, video games, basketball, dirt, football, and grass stains. Needless to say, Cameron's behavior stood out as being odd from an early age. He'd seize opportunities to openly express his femininity. I struggled with Cameron's independence and felt torn between the responsibility I felt to support my child and my own selfish desperation for the "phase" to run it's course so that he could finally become the "normal" boy that I had brought into the world.

A phase will do just that... a phase will "run a course". It'll end. The more time that passed, it became evident that Cameron's course was set on a path to permanency. He'd demand a girl's toy with his happy meal at fast food restaurants, he played exclusively with girls and girl's toys, he'd sit to go to the bathroom, and he'd frequently express frustration with his brothers' behavior. In later years, he was absolutely repulsed by the fact that they found belching and farting to be fantastic sources of entertainment - which frequently resulted in pass-time competitions and laughter fests.

At age three or four, Cameron announced that he hated his penis- he said it was a mistake and that it wasn't supposed to be there. He seemed relentless in his disdain for the "unwanted appendage". In my naivete and frustration, resulting from the helplessness I felt with his persistence on the matter, I made a light-hearted sarcastic joke, "What do you expect me to do about it... snip it off?" I figured he would laugh... or at the very least, come to his senses and realize that there was nothing that could be done about the situation. Sensing my frustration with the disappointment he felt in his body... he let it go. He quit talking about his penis, but the gender variant behaviors continued. In fact, in the years that followed, they intensified and became more prevalent. I would get home from work in the evenings and discover that my closet, jewelry box, and cosmetic bag were in disarray. Cameron would wear my high heels around the house. Then, interestingly, he would wrap accessory scarves around his head and tie them behind his neck so that the ends would cascade down his back like hair. He would move his head so that the ends would sway back and forth when he walked, pull the ends over his shoulders, and flip them behind his back with his hand.

All along, I lovingly supported him in his interests and tried to make sure that he knew that I loved him. I wanted him to know - without any doubt - that my love was unconditional... that he could be himself... if only - in our home. So, you'd think the conversation that followed that afternoon wouldn't have come as a shock or even a remote surprise. Although, there were plenty of precursors, I felt completely unprepared for the moments that followed.

"Cameron... tell me what's wrong. You know you can always talk to me, and I'll always be here for you. What's going on?"

Doing the best to control his emotions, he wiped the tears from his cheeks and looked at me with a profound sadness in his eyes. I could tell he was afraid... that it was taking every ounce of courage in his body to express what was coming next... "I'm not like other boys." I tussled his hair with my hand, "It's okay, baby." He didn't stop there... he continued, "I feel like I'm supposed to be a girl." The tears turned back into sobs. He repeated, "There's something bad wrong with me."

My heart swelled with love. The pain that he was feeling was so intense, it was palpable. His heartache permeated our surroundings and engulfed his sobs. I felt overcome with peace as I pulled the car to the side of the road. I took his hand in mine and with the other hand, grabbed his chin. I turned his tear-stained face toward mine so that our eyes locked. By this time, tears were streaming down my face too. I looked steadfast into his eyes and spoke with vigilant conviction, "Cameron, there's nothing 'wrong' with you. Do you hear me? There's nothing wrong with you..." We cried together for what seemed like a good while, then together, we began our journey. I had looked at Cameron thousands of times, but in that sacred moment I began to understand... For the first time in my life, I was blessed to "see" my daughter. I told her that diversity in the world was good and it's the differences in life that make the world beautiful. I told her that, although others may never understand what she feels or who she is, she would always be loved and accepted in our home. I explained that my love was unconditional and that I wanted her to feel free to express herself naturally.

My child has more courage than anyone I know... she's not afraid to be herself... she's strong... extremely strong... strong enough to teach her parents, what should've been obvious all along. She's courageous in the face of adversity and her courage gives me strength. If she can face this challenge in her life... then I can certainly face it with her. I have become a champion for her... her biggest fan... and an advocate for her needs and interests. From that point forward I began to, not just support, but truly understand Cameron's gender needs. Buying her toys and clothes what were gender appropriate became an act of embracing her identity as opposed to "supporting her interests". From that point forward she could, not only openly express herself in our home, but our support shifted to a quest for understanding. I immediately began to search for the answers that would help me to understand her better. I began to research gender issues and immersed myself in gender-related research and study. It wasn't long before my independent inquiries led me to an Internet link about transgender children. I sat in shock... completely amazed as I read the words printed on the page. I lost myself in the information that seemed to explicitly describe my child...

1. Expressed desire to be the opposite sex (including passing oneself off as the opposite sex and calling oneself by an opposite sex name).

2. Disgust with their own genitals (Boys may pretend not to have a penis. Girls may fear growing breasts and menstruating and may refuse to sit when urinating. They also may bind their breasts to make them less noticeable.)

3. Belief that they will grow up to become the opposite sex.

4. Rejection by their peer groups.

5. Dressing and behaving in a manner typical of the opposite sex (for example, a female wearing boy's underwear).

6. Withdrawal from social interaction and activity.

7. Feelings of isolation, depression, and anxiety.

I quickly realized that I would need to seek out medical support and educate myself if I were ever going to advocate for my child's happiness. I knew that we had a long road ahead... but I also knew that if my child could find peace and happiness in life, it would be a worthwhile journey.

Understanding Transgender Children (Part 5)

Understanding Transgender Children (Part 4)

Understanding Transgender Children (Part 3)

Understanding Transgender Children (Part 2)

Understanding Transgender Children (Part 1)

In the Beginning...

Cameron's life began like most other children's lives. I'll never forget the day that he came into my world and the announcement was made, "It's a beautiful baby boy!" What joy... what gratitude I felt at that moment and in the years that followed as the blessings of this precious little spirit were realized. Cameron has been blessed with many special gifts, talents, and attributes... but along with those endowments has come some extreme challenges...

Cameron's body and spirit are not in harmony with one another. As Cameron began to develop, we noticed some excentricities in his behavior and interests. Cameron preferred to sit rather than stand when using the bathroom, and rather than developing an affinity for trucks, action heroes, sharks, dinosaurs, or other traditional boy interests - we noticed that he consistently made his way to the hot pink Barbie section of the toy store. On occasion, when I'd agree to buy he or his brothers a toy, his brothers would ask for something like a truck or action figure and Cameron would insist on a doll. I felt compelled to support him in his interests and I'd buy him a doll. After all, I thought - specifically calculating the reprucautions "If one of the boys asks for a truck and gets a truck... and Cameron asks for a doll and gets a truck, then without saying a word, I send the message that I don't accept him." Over the years, I felt angered by the strict gender roles present in our society that seemed to exclude my child. I would recite questions in my head, "Why can't he play with dolls? What's wrong with dolls? Boys become parents too. Why can't he wear pink if he wants to? Pink is just a color. Why shouldn't he sit to go to the bathroom? Is there a rulebook somewhere that states that all boys have to stand to go to the bathroom?" It seemed rediculous and I wanted for people to open their minds and their hearts, I wished that society could embrace Cameron - or at least allow him to be himself without a bunch of gender biased expectations.



These unique interests seemed to affect other areas of his life as well, from the cartoons he preferred to watch on television (most notably an obsession with the Powerpuff Girls), to the pictures he drew. While my older son was drawing pictures of sharks or combat scenes, Cameron would consistently draw pictures of hearts, butterflies, flowers, little girls, and sunshine. Probably the most curious thing about his illustrations was the fact that he always drew himself as a little girl with long hair or pigtails, and a dress. His preferred color scheme was always pastel with an affinity for various shades of pink and purple.

As he grew a little older, his physical mannerisms, which were always feminine, gradually betrayed him as they exposed his true gender identity. He talked, laughed, walked, ran, and even sat like a girl. Through it all, I consistently tried to maintain a balance and focus... to support him in his interests while trying desperately to protect him from the callous judgement of a sexually binary society. It was no easy task and I soon realized the challenges that lie ahead. Cameron didn't fit into the male or female gender stereotypes and over the years the inner conflict and turmoil started to take it's toll on his self concept, and magnified my inadequacies as a parent. I wished, more than anything, that I could change the world... I desperately wanted to make it a happier place for him... a place where people would understand and accept him... somewhere far removed from ridicule and torment.

I finally came to a conclusion... "if I can't make the world a happier place, then I will do all that I can to make Cameron a happier child." My rationale quickly shifted from dwelling on those things that I could not control, to making the most of the things that I could. I prayed about it and the answer that I received became very clear "Love him... even as I have loved you."

I decided that I was going to continue to give Cameron my unconditional love and support, and allow him to express himself naturally... at the very least in our home. As a result, our home became a Utopian environment for Cameron and a safe haven for self expression. It seemed to be enough... for a while. As Cameron's physical body began to develop more and more masculine characteristics, his psychological female gender identity became more obvious to those around him. The ridicule and torment that had once been a frequent challenge in his life, became incessant. Then, to make matters worse, he was assigned to "THE TEACHER"... the one that we all have at some point in our childhood... the one that torments your life and makes your world a living hell. She targeted Cameron, and made him the focus of classroom ridicule, which exacerbated the challenges that he faced with his peers. She moved his desk from among his classmates and placed it in the corner of the classroom, facing the wall - so that he couldn't put his hands inside it. She left him there... not for a day... not for a week... not for a month... she left my child alone in the corner for four months, until we moved to a new community and transfered him out of the school system.

At one point last year, Cameron had gone to school wearing pink fingernail polish that he had put on over the weekend. He had forgotten to remove it, and when he came home I noticed that he had been chewing on the tips of his fingers and fingernails, frantically trying to remove the polish. As soon as I walked through the door, he asked for some fingernail polish remover. There was a sense of urgency in his voice. He was clearly upset. I asked him what had happened and he said that he had been teased at school. He didn't go into detail about the events of the day. Of course his classmates had a party, criticizing and harassing him. At lunch he was too intimidated to eat because he didn't want any of the kids to see his fingernails, so he just sat at the table with his hands hidden in his lap, trying to prevent further criticism. His teacher saw him sitting there and demanded that he eat. She said, "You're the one who put the nail polish on your fingers... don't try to hide it now!" When Cameron refused to eat, she punished him by sending him to eat alone at the "silent table". Then she walked by and touted in sarcasm, "What's wrong Cameron? You don't have any friends? I'll be your friend."

I knew things were difficult for Cameron at school, but I hadn't realized the extent to which his teacher had been tormenting his life. He was afraid to cross her because he knew that he would have to return to her class. It wasn't until last week, after we had moved and Cameron felt safe, that he began to share some of the horrors of what he had experienced under her "professional" care as an "educator". It beggs the question... "What was she teaching the children???" Cameron's journal entry demonstrates his frustration....